


The Road of the Damned

by Daksgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, M/M, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daksgirl/pseuds/Daksgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-apocalyptic AU. After what humans called 'Judgement Day', the world hasn't been the same. Between fighting normal monsters and trying to survive what lurks in the darkness, the Winchesters are just trying to get by. But it looks like the world isn't as done with them as they are with it, and two angels might just have the key to restore balance to the force. Destiel and Sabriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Man I need to post more here. New little project as a breather from my D/C Big Bang. AU but will be using themes from all seasons. Eventual sex and gore, be warned! This is a horror fic after all. AU Post-apocalyptic fic.

The hollow slamming of a car door cracked across the empty field, startling a flock of dozing starlings into taking flight. Below their fluttering shapes in the sky, lay a rotting long abandoned warehouse; wood boards peeling from the walls in jagged strips. The windows had been broken years ago, giving the dilapidated building a hollow and gaunt look as the chilled autumn air whistled through it.

A black classic car was parked in front of the building, a metallic cage welded around its windows and roof. As the birds flew overhead, a man looked up from where he had been stowing away supplies in the trunk.

He was rough around the edges, his clothes worn and frayed. His jeans had a splatter of red stained along one thigh, his boots heavily scuffed. He tugged his patched up coat closer around him, turning to look back towards the warehouse.

“Sam!” he bellowed. “Get your ass out here, we gotta move!”

The warehouse echoed with the sound of shuffling boots, and a taller man emerged from the gaping doorway, a shotgun hoisted over one shoulder. Like his brother, Sam’s clothes were ratty at best, his jeans slung low on his bony hips.

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming,” he muttered, flicking his overlong hair out of his eyes. “Was just making sure we got them all.”

Dean snorted at him, slamming the Impala’s trunk closed. “We got them. Those vamps won’t be bothering anyone else.”

Both brothers glanced back towards the warehouse, and it stared back at them accusingly. Its previous tenants had met a sticky end in the early morning. Sam gave an involuntary shudder.

“They’ll be here later won’t they? Can’t believe they really do that. Eat other monsters I mean.”

Dean looked grim as he opened the driver’s side door, sliding into the warmer interior of the car.

“That’s why I wanna be several miles away by the time night falls, Sammy.”

 

* * *

 

 

 They had called it Judgment Day.

Maybe that’s what it really was. Maybe God had finally grown tired of humanitie's bullshit and decided to just put an end to it. Maybe they messed with something they shouldn’t have. Maybes were fun to think about, but at the end of the day, _it happened._

Dean had been five when he caught his first glimpse of one of them. He had been too young to fully understand the worried tones of his parents; too young to appreciate the panicked stories that were aired on the news by flustered news casters. Fear and chaos had spread across the globe like wildfire, and he had been oblivious.

But it had been raining, he could remember that. The ground had squished underfoot as his father had bundled him out to the old garage, still dressed in his pajamas. Sam was only a baby, held tightly and protectively in Dean’s pudgy little arms as his father hoisted him into the old pickup truck, his father’s face ghostly pale in the dim light of the garage.

He could remember Mary’s screams, John’s shouts of outrage as a shotgun erupted in the night. He could remember how quiet Sam was, not stirring even a muscle, even as something crawled onto the hood of the truck; its eyes gleaming and hungry. Something that had only existed in bedtime stories and lurked in the shadows of his closet when he wasn’t looking, was suddenly _real_. It smeared red across the window, deep gruff chuckles of glee forced from its terrible mouth as it anointed the truck with his mother’s blood.

He couldn’t remember much after that. Only that his father had gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white, and he drove and drove until Dean thought they’d reached the end of the Earth. Maybe it would have been better if they had, had just driven off the edge and been done with it.

The years after that were the hardest. They had to adjust to a whole new world, one where danger was just around every bend, lurking in every shadow. John took care of them as best he could, but there were close calls, nights spent awake as terrible creatures screamed in the night only meters away.

Dean had grown up in this world. He _was_ this world. John had trained him for one purpose, and one purpose only.

And that said purpose was currently _daring_ to put his giant man feet up on his precious baby.

Dean scowled, reaching over to swat at Sam’s feet unhappily.

“Dude, how many times? Not on the upholstery!”

Sam grumbled to himself, rearranging his large frame more comfortably into the dip of the seat. “I’ve got a cramp! That one vamp kicked me in the calf. I’m going to have a bruise the size of the _moon._ ”

Dean rolled his eyes, but his back throbbed in sympathy. The fight had been a hard one. The alpha, a skinny blonde female, had been the worst. Judging by the look of her, hacking her head off with a machete had been a _mercy._

“Quit your whining, Samantha. We’re alive, and with the job done, can get our well-earned reward.”

Sam’s stomach gave a happy gurgle, and he glanced down at it, patting his belly through his grimy shirt. “I gotta say, I’m looking forward to that the most. Never thought I’d actually say that about _Spam_.”

A middle-aged farmer living in an old farmhouse had begged the Winchesters to help him dispose of the vampires. The creatures had been sneaking into his barn and feeding on the already poor excuses he had for cows. The farmer promised them ammo and canned goods in return for the vampires’ death. Food was sparse, ammo even more so, and the Winchesters said yes. It was a job they were used to doing, clearing out the lesser monsters that threatened groups of survivors.

The family business, John had called it.

The Impala purred down the empty road, spindly bushes swaying towards her from the edges of the cracked road. Most of the surrounding fields had been farmland before, but now had been abandoned to nature. Weeds grew wild, a tentative new sprig of a tree here and there. The grasses spread out as far as the eye could see, and Dean scanned the horizon expectantly.

He could see the first tell-tale signs of darkness, the slight brush of black against the pale blue sky, and he slowly pressed his boot more firmly down on the gas. The farmer had an old gas pump back at his farm; they could afford to burn a little more.

Sam pressed his forehead against the passenger window, fingers idly tracing patterns against his thigh.

“We’re gonna have to stop at Bobby’s soon. It’s been almost three months, Dean.”

Dean was still eyeing the smudge of black on the horizon. “I know. I meant to try and get word to him through Rufus, but then we got involved with that whole Wendigo thing, remember?”

Sam laughed, and it was enough to pull Dean’s attention towards him. Sam didn’t laugh that much these days.

“I remember _you_ , flat on your ass in a bog, covered in slime,” Sam grinned, and Dean found himself smiling back. “And then that girl…what was her name… _Anna_ , screaming about evil eyes and whores, then slapping you.”

Dean squared his shoulders, smirking at the road. “What can I say? I have a way with the ladies.”

“Apparently.”

The silence they fell into was comfortable, familiar. The metal cage John had fixed over the car years ago, rattled against the windows. In the back seat, canned food clicked against each other, guns and knives shifting in the trunk. The car was their home, and all they had ever known.

As Dean coaxed the Impala over a slight hill, two figures appeared in the distance. Immediately Dean was on the alert, scanning the surrounding grass and bushes. Ambushes weren’t uncommon in these parts, rogue groups of humans _or_ monsters attacking travelers. There were even rumors of cannibals here in the mid-west; stories that made even Dean shudder and double check the locked car doors at night.

Sam leaned forward as he noticed them, eyes lighting up. It was two men, one shorter than the other. They were barefoot, feet dirty and bloody as they hugged grimy tattered pieces of clothing around them. Probably victims of an ambush.

Or the bait.

Sam turned to him expectantly. “Dean-”

“ _No_.”

Sam’s face changed, eyes sparking with anger. “But they might need our help!”

“Or they might slit our throats,” Dean shot back angrily. “If we’re _lucky_.”

The two men had heard the car, and turned. They were dirty; the smaller one had a wicked looking cut across his forehead, clotted black in the dimming light. He stuck out his thumb in a gesture Dean hadn’t seen for a long time, a forced smile in place. The taller one, with a mess of dark hair, merely watched the oncoming car with a sharp gaze.

“Come on Dean…”

“I said no.”

He made a point to rev the car harder, pushing the Impala past the two men hurriedly. The taller one watched them pass by solemnly, no hint of either sadness or anger in his eyes. 

Sam turned in his seat to watch them. “You are such a dick. They look harmless.”

Dean deliberately ignored his rearview mirror. “One word, Sam. _Ruby._ ”

That shut his little brother up. Sam turned back around abruptly, slouching low in his seat.

Ok, _now_ he felt like a massive dick. Ruby was a sore spot between them, and likely always would be. A pretty brunette, they had picked her up somewhere in Georgia, helping her escape a group of angry looking men. She had said they had wanted to rape and eat her, and like the idiots they were, they Winchesters believed her. Sam especially.

Turns out the men had been chasing her _away_ from their small settlement of families. Ruby wasn’t exactly what she had said she was. Luckily Dean remembered enough Latin, and Sam had actually paid attention when John had taught them exorcisms, and they had banished the bitch. Only seconds before she managed to bury a _very_ wicked looking knife in Dean’s heart.

So _excuse_ him for being a little suspicious of hitchhikers.

 

* * *

 

 

 They pulled off the road when the sun finally slipped below the horizon, parking the Impala beneath a small tree in the cover of some tall scrubby bushes.  They’d have to wait until morning to make it to the farm.

Sam watched as Dean carried out their nightly ritual; tracing ancient letters and symbols around the Impala in the dirt. A few splashes of holy water, and hopefully the barrier would hold long enough if some unwanted visitors came knocking.

Sam sighed as Dean ducked into the car to pull out a dented can of beans. “Let me guess, no fire tonight.”

His brother shot him a dark look. “No fire. I’m not taking any risks after those vamps.”

Sam reluctantly followed Dean around the car, both settling on the Impala’s hood. They shared the can between them, using an old fork that had seen better days. Sam prodded at his portion unhappily, legs folded beneath him.

“I hate cold beans,” he muttered, as if the words would somehow magically transform his meal into a juicy burger. “They’re just…bleh.”

Dean took the can off him, fork scraping against the sides as he dug in. “Yeah well, I hate when you _eat_ cold beans. Like a freaking rotten egg sauna in the car the next day.”

Dean hooted in alarm as Sam shoved him, the taller Winchester grinning as he managed to catch the can just as his brother toppled over the edge. He sniffed haughtily, delving into the can with more flourish than before.

“Guess I better get eating if you want your _eau de egg_ in the morning.”

Dean just shook his head with a wry smile, admitting defeat.

After their meager meal, they settled in the car for the night; Sam stretching out in the backseat as Dean wriggled into the passenger side. Sometimes if the weather was good and the area clear, they would risk sleeping outside, tracing the stars and sharing stories from the past.

But Dean felt uneasy tonight. The air was too still, the birds and insects too quiet. Not even a cricket dared sing tonight, and that never meant anything good.

The seat beneath Dean’s back was grooved, perfectly molded to Sam’s mammoth frame, and it took him a few minutes to shift into a comfortable position. The leather creaked, rough wool blanket scratching against the bare skin of his arms as he tucked it closer around himself. His boots had been thrown in the back somewhere, and he wriggled his toes happily, absently noting yet another hole forming in the heel of his sock.

“’Night, Sammy,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

Sam shifted around in the back, yawning widely. Something rattled in the trunk. “Night, jerk.”

Dean grinned to himself. “Bitch.”

 

* * *

 

 He had been dreaming of death again.

Strange creatures spewed forth from the dark recesses that man had long forgotten, chasing him down bloody roads and fields until it was all he could see, all he could _taste_ ; blood and rot and _evil._

He woke up with a gasp, sucking in deep lungful’s of air as he stared wide eyed out the front window. Sam’s soft snores echoed around him, the interior of the car warm and comforting. Slowly, Dean leant back into his seat, checking the doors out of habit. Everything was locked and in place, and Dean allowed himself to relax slightly.

Out beyond the car, the night was pitch black, no light filtering through the vegetation Dean had hid them in. Warily, the hunter held his breath as he scanned the darkness. He was a light sleeper these days, something must have woken him up.

His stomach churned nervously, the stale taste of cold beans sharp in his mouth. He could feel the darkness looking back at him, freezing the hair along his arms and the back of his neck. Slowly, carefully, Dean reached beneath his seat, fingers closing around the air warmed metal of a revolver. Sam snuffled something in his sleep, rolling over noisily. The Impala creaked on her wheels, metal squeaking against metal. Dean froze, gun halfway towards his lap.

Something outside in the darkness, _moved_.


	2. Chapter 2

Demons were real. Vampires were real. So were ghosts, and werewolves, and all manner of uglies that went bump in the night.

Dean knew that, had learnt it the hard way over the years. Maybe hell was real too. Monsters had to come from somewhere, and maybe there really  _was_  a pit of fiery damnation down there, where little goat men poked each other with pitchforks.

It sounded almost nice compared to here.

The creature moved through the darkness, and Dean tracked it, recognizing the controlled careful movement as it brushed up against the wards.

There were monsters, yes. And then there were… _them._

They had no name. If they did, no-one ever dared say it, as if acknowledging their existence out loud might somehow summon them. Maybe it did. No-one knew where they came from or what their purpose was, but everyone knew what they wanted _._

They  _wanted_ blood, and suffering, and death. They were ghouls, wraiths; the living undead that howled at the moon and gorged on blood. They were everything and nothing, something so undeserving of existing that even nature cowered away from them. The trees were silent, leaves shivering fearfully as the creature shifted in the darkness. Dean could hear the whispers of its bare feet against the grass, could see its pale eyes as it moved into the weak light of the moon.

It had been a woman once, and a pretty one. She had probably been a student of some kind; her shredded and stained sweatshirt still boasted a faded school logo, hidden beneath a dark slick of dried blood. She  _had_ been human, until a monster slipped beneath her skin. It had stretched its putrid self across her bones and squeezed itself into the wet recesses of her veins. It had plucked a dark crescendo across her nerves, her thrumming ligaments its pitch as it performed a sonata of corruption upon her very soul.

It had consumed her until there was nothing left of the person she had been. It had eaten away at her, piece by piece, until she wasn't human anymore; not dead, not alive.

Now, she was one of  _them._

Blotches of black decay bloomed beneath her ribs through the tatters in her shirt as she squatted up against the wards, staring down at the scrawled symbols and letters curiously. A crooked and bloody finger poked at one symbol, and the letter crackled ominously, glowing slightly. The creature withdrew hurriedly, avoiding a potential crispy death. She hissed unhappily towards the car, and Dean caught a glimpse of yellowed pointed teeth, the abnormal stretch of her mouth.

_Shit._

Other shapes were moving in the shadows, and the creature swung around; long greasy hair flopping lifelessly against one sallow shoulder. Flashes of white glowed in the dark, and Dean hunkered down further. It was the eyes that freaked him out the most; the milky glazed film that covered their otherwise blank gaze. Only the dead looked like that, and the dead should  _stay_ that way.

Cursing under his breath, Dean turned in his seat, flailing with one hand to smack Sam hard on the shoulder.

"Sam!" he hissed through clenched teeth, eyes darting back towards where the creatures were gathering. "We got company!"

Sam blinked awake hurriedly, rolling onto his side to lean under the seat. When he sat back up he had a shotgun in one hand. He gave himself a little shake, leaning forward towards where Dean was. This was normal for them, a situation they had faced before.

"How many?" he asked, voice cracking slightly. "Is it a pack?"

Dean grimaced out the window. "Enough that I dared wake your ass up from your beauty sleep. It's too late anyways Samantha, you'll never be prom queen."

Grabbing two loose shells from the messy car floor, Sam loaded the shotgun with practiced ease. "Well you'd know."

The shotgun clicked in the cramped interior of the Impala, and Dean watched the creatures outside, expecting them to hear the noise. A male had joined the female toeing the wards, his overlarge rotting belly jiggling as he moved beside her. They moved so gracefully, despite their decay. If Dean were the shallow and seriously messed up type, he might envy them.

Sam leant between the front seats, eyes wide and curious. "I haven't seen such a big pack in a while. Food must be getting scarce."

Dean glared at his little brother, giving him a shove. "Well gee Sam _, fascinating_ ," he said sarcastically. "Does the Professor have any ideas on how to get rid of them?"

Sam shot him a bitch-face. "We just gotta wait them out. They don't like the sun right? We'll just wait until then."

The brothers fell silent as the female approached the wards again. She peered down at the wards with her milky eyes, trailing her cracked and rotting fingers along the edges of the symbols. They glowed warningly, but she didn't move any closer. The male beside her scuttled backwards with a hiss, greying chins wobbling. A bloody chasm burrowed into his cheek, and as the brothers watched, a splatter of black blood squelched through the hole, dribbling down an already stained path along his neck and shoulder.

The female ignored him, pressing her finger more firmly against a symbol. Her finger crackled, fire beginning to set in the bone, but she didn't react.

Dean growled to himself. "Doesn't look like that's an option, Sam. She'll break through it long before then."

"Yeah right," Sam shook his head with a disbelieving chuckle. "Like they have the intelligence to do that."

Pulling away from the wards, the female looked at her smoldering finger curiously. The flesh peeled back in blackened strips, curling as she touched it. Her white eyes seemed brighter suddenly, and slowly she turned back to the male, crooning to him softly as she held out her finger.

Dean almost looked away, knew that he'd probably just feel sick if he watched. The creatures ate everything; corpses, monsters, hell, they even ate each  _other._ A light finger snack was probably nothing for them.

But he continued to watch as the fat male moved close, mouth stretching wide as he reached for her. Green globules of slime clung to the corners of his mouth, his piggy dead eyes gleeful at the anticipated meal.

Just as he drew in close, the female dropped her hand. With a snarl, she darted in quickly, grabbing him by one thick, fleshy fold. He flailed stupidly as she pulled and twisted, dragging him a few paces forward. Her rotten teeth clicked as she chattered at him, and she even shot him what might have been a smile, before shoving  _hard._

The male slammed to the ground and the Impala shook on her frame, the wards lighting up the night in a furious glow of red.

The Winchesters could only watch in horrified awe as the large creature jerked and screamed; face first on the wards. The smell of burning flesh filled the car, and with a grimace, Dean shut the air vents, turning to glare at Sam viciously.

"You were saying?"

Sam swallowed heavily, watching as the female reached out a grey foot to test her suddenly clear path towards the car.

"Well…fuck."

 

* * *

 

The Impala screeched on her frame, rocking back and forth alarmingly. Dean hunkered down in the passenger seat, revolver clutched in bloodless fingers. He stared up at the roof of the car, listening to the enraged grunting and snarling above as the creatures wrestled with the cage; furious their attempts at an easy meal had been foiled by such a small thing. One slavered next to him out the window; rotting teeth clamped around the cage and tugging furiously. Dark congealed blood dropped from its mouth, teeth stripped as it moved and Dean had been resolutely ignoring it for the past half hour.

Sam was perched nervously in the backseat; ready with the shotgun in case one managed to smash a window.

"I forgot how much this sucks," he muttered, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. "It's been a while since they've actually gotten past the wards."

A splatter of black and red spittle hit the window next to Dean's cheek.

"They're getting smarter," he glanced unhappily at the mess on his baby. "And grosser."

Sam grunted in agreement. The female, probably the leader of the little gaggle that currently was using the Impala as a playground, had pasted herself across the hood of the car. She crouched there, white eyes unwavering as she stared Dean down. Now and then she would emit a screech and the creatures on the roof would double their efforts, rocking the car crazily. Dean wasn't worried; if they managed to tip over the car they'd still have just as hard a time getting in. John had reinforced everything.

Suddenly, the female jerked up, spine stiffening.

Her eyes were huge; ragged nostrils flaring. Dean blinked and she was gone, crawling down off the car and across her still smoldering bridge in a few jerky movements. The others followed her, screeching to one another.

It was then that both brothers could hear voices.  _Human_ voices.

Sam lurched forward, nearly clocking Dean in the face as he dragged his mammoth frame between the seats to peer out the windshield.

"Holy shit, Dean," he hissed, eyes wide. "It's those hitchhikers!"

Dean had to shove Sam's head out of the way, squinting against the low flare of the wards to pick out shapes in the dark.

Sure enough, the two ragged men they had passed on the road pushed through the bushes. They looked even worse close up, the shreds of their clothes barely hanging on. They were dirty; the shorter one's forehead gash more black in the dim light.

Dean shook his head. "Well they're dead. Poor bastards."

The creatures didn't move towards the two new arrivals, the female merely hissing at them warningly as they approached.

"Hey check it out!" the shorter man clapped his hands together, smiling widely. "It's a party!"

His companion looked nervous, eyeing the creatures warily as they growled and hissed. "Gabriel, I do not think this is wise."

The short man snorted. "Which part of this whole messed up situation seems  _wise_ , Castiel? Welcome to reality."

The Winchesters shared an incredulous look.  _Gabriel? Castiel?_

Dean stifled a groan. It was worse than he thought. Poor  _religious_ bastards.

The female lurched towards the two men, hissing unhappily as she paced an invisible line in front of them. The shorter one, Gabriel, looked unimpressed, crossing his arms.

"Am I meant to be scared? Honey, don't even try."

" _Gabriel._ " The other, Castiel, hissed. "Do not antagonize them. They can still-"

The female rose to her full height, and Dean fully expected to see the two men die horribly. Instead the female seemed to just stand there, shaking. Wait no, she was...she was…

_Laughing._

She tossed her head back, spine cracking and bones shifting against one another with a squeak.

" _Anzu,"_ she growled, and Dean almost died from shock right then and there. " _Summu nura_ _ **ninsuna.**_ "

The vocal chords of her body were rotten, barely held together by thin strings of gristle. But it wasn't a single voice that she spoke with, but what sounded like  _many_. It rumbled across the clearing, and Dean quaked at the sound of it, Sam grabbing him hard. Sam was trembling, his fingers digging painful grooves into Dean's arm.

Gabriel didn't look as impressed. In fact he looked… _scandalized_. "Oh no you  _didn't_ you little skank!"

He lunged for her but she scuttled away, impossibly fast. Gruff bursts of laughter were shaken from the creatures around them, and nervously, Castiel reached out for his friend.

"Gabriel, please," he pulled the shorter man back, away from the chuffing female. "Our strength is waning; they do us a great service by leaving us be."

"Did you hear what she called me?" Gabriel glared viciously towards where the creature had retreated, her mouth open wide in a parody of a smile. Dark slime oozed from her gums, her tongue blackened as she flicked it against her sharp teeth.

" _Sut resi alaksu qabu salmat qaqqadi,"_ she purred. " _Sa ana sepiya."_

Gabriel pointed threateningly towards her. "And  _I_ say you can go boil your rotten head.  _Our_  humans, we saw them first. I'm calling dibs."

The mirth she had displayed only seconds before disappeared, and she snarled, blue lips stretched over her greying gums. The others copied her, all crouching low to the ground and hissing.

Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes. "See what you have done? Really brother-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the smaller man was off, rolling up the sleeves on his tattered shirt and stomping towards the hissing creature gleefully.

"It's clobberin' time," he growled. "I'll show  _you_ ninsuna!"

Dean heard Sam's sharp intake of breath as the small guy just went for it; lunging at the creature and dragging her down to the ground. The clearing erupted into noise; screeching and yowling as the remaining creatures all lunged for Castiel.

"We should help," Sam said, already jiggling the door handle, struggling with the locks. "They're gonna get themselves killed."

"Godammit Sam this isn't our-"

But his brother was already gone, releasing the cage and shoving the door open. Standing behind the open door, he opened fire with the shotgun. A scrawny male went down; the blast opening his back and shattering his spine.

Swearing furiously, Dean unlocked his side, heart pounding. "If we die," he muttered, fingers slipping against the metal. "I'm kicking your _ass_."

The boom of his revolver joined Sam's shotgun, and the creatures wailed, turning away from their attack on the hitchhikers. They fled into the darkness, some scuttling on all fours like crabs. The last to leave was the female, and she turned to glower fiercely towards Dean. He shot at her, but she dodged easily, disappearing after her pack.

Dean watched them go, unnerved. It shouldn't be that easy. It was  _never_ that easy.

Gabriel swayed on his feet, looking bloodier and rougher than before. He grinned though, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Yeah! That's what I'm talking about! You better run!" he shouted towards the retreating shapes.

His companion hurried over, the dude looking relatively unscathed. "I told you to  _desist_ , Gabriel. You could have gotten us killed!"

The two started bickering between themselves, oblivious to the Winchesters. Sam stifled a smile, electing to kick at the dead smoldering fat guy when Dean glared over at him.

Keeping his revolver trained on the bickering men, Dean cleared his throat loudly. Both men stopped their arguing, and Dean tapped his revolver on the roof of the car pointedly.

"Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?" he asked wryly.

Shoving Castiel behind him, Gabriel held his hand up.

"Oh um, hi," he waggled his fingers in greeting. "Winchesters right? I'm Gabriel, this is Castiel. Thanks for not picking us up earlier. Jerks."

Dean kept his gun trained on them, frowning hard.

"How did you find us?" he demanded. "Even running, you shouldn't have been able to catch up."

"And what was that?" Sam interrupted, shotgun held loosely in his hands. "They were  _speaking_ , we've never-

"Sam!" Dean barked, furious that his brother would relax so easily. "Interrogation time! Not happy-make-friends time!"

Sam withdrew sheepishly, hoisting his shotgun back up.

Gabriel watched the two of them bemusedly. "We found you because we've been  _looking_ , for your information we  _did_ run and now thanks to you I've got blisters  _on_ my blisters, fuck you very mu-"

"I will take it from here, Gabriel." His companion interrupted, his voice low as he stepped more into view. Dean shivered, a ghost finger trailing up his spine. The dude was staring at him like he was familiar, apparently at ease with giving people  _way_ too intimate looks. Dean had to drop his intimidating glare to somewhere around the guy's jaw, suddenly embarrassed.

"We have been searching for you for many days now," Castiel continued. "We were able to fly up until a week ago, and then we had to traverse by foot. It was very tedious. But when we saw you today-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Sam interrupted again. " _Fly?_ You guys can fly?"

Castiel looked over at him like it was no big deal. Like it was completely natural. "Yes. It is a gift we have now given up, but we were able to retain it long enough to locate the general area you were in and the-"

"Hold up." Dean waved his revolver and Castiel trailed off, turning to stare at him again. "I'm still stuck on the flying part. Just what the hell are you two? Fairies?"

Gabriel crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow petulantly. "The names didn't give it away? We're angels, dickwad."

"Were," Castiel said gravely, before Dean even had time to absorb  _that_ little nugget of information. "But we mustn't waste time. It is highly likely the  _mahorela-avini_ will return in greater numbers. I have exhausted the last vestiges of my grace, and would not be able to fight them."

Dean was still stuck on the whole angel thing. Judging by Sam's wide eyed blank gaze, he was too.

Gabriel sighed at them both. "We should leave, basically."

Sam shook himself, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "So…angels. Really."

The two looked at each other, sharing exasperated glances.

"We know this is difficult," Castiel said gently, turning back towards Sam. "But we are indeed angels."

"And we're here to help!" Gabriel added brightly. "Sorta. Kinda. Well he is, I'm just along for the ride."

Sam shook his head wondrously. "You called them mahorela-avini. What does that mean?"

"It means 'dark ones'," Castiel told him, dark brows knitted together in a frown. "It is the only word I can think of for them."

Sam's shotgun was held laxly against his thigh, ignoring Dean as his older brother tried to glare holes in Sam's head. "Wow, so you guys have your own language? I mean I read about it of course but I never really thou-"

"Seriously?" Dean finally burst out, and everyone fell silent. The smell of the burnt corpse was suddenly too arid and cloying, Dean felt like throwing up. "Angels? You expect us to believe that?"

Something flashed in Castiel's blue eyes. "I understand this is difficult to believe. But believe you must. We do not have much time, those abominations will return and-"

Dean glared over at him, blood running hotly in his veins. "And who's to say you're not with them, huh? Or part of a gang, or cannibals or some shit?"

To his credit, Castiel didn't seem offended. "If we were any of those things, would we look like we do?"

"Yeah," Gabriel looked down at himself, picking at his clothes. "How many gangs of cannibals do you know that can rock rags?"

Dean shook his head, revolver unwavering. "I'm not buying it. Angels my  _ass_."

Surprisingly, it was Sam who spoke up, kicking out at the burning corpse at his feet sullenly. "Why not, Dean? Vampires, werewolves, those… _things_  sure, but angels? Suddenly that's too much for you?"

Dean gritted his teeth, feeling a headache coming on. "We'll talk about this later, Sam. Get in the car."

" _No._ "

Dean dropped his attention from the two in front of him at that, turning to stare incredulously at his brother.

" _No?_ " he echoed. "Get in the car  _now_ , Sam. They're crazy delusional weirdos and I'm not about to talk about this anymore."

Sam wasn't going to back down. Dean recognized the flare in his brother's eyes, the stubborn tilt of his chin and shoulders. Shit, he'd done it now.

"I believe them," Sam said loudly, and Gabriel gave him a thumbs up. "We know evil exists, why not something good too?"

Dean made a noise of exasperation, thumping his fist on the Impala in frustration. "Because there  _is_ no good Sam!" he snapped. "If not weirdos then they're probably demons, or shapeshifters. Let's just get in the car and get the hell outta dodge."

Castiel moved forward, and Dean swung his revolver back towards him warningly. The supposed angel held up his hands, acknowledging the threat.

"I'm exercising a hell of a lot of self-control not just shooting you on the spot," Dean growled, sensing he was fighting a losing battle. "Don't make me do something I'd  _love_ to do."

Gabriel rolled eyes, ignoring Dean's threat. "Wanna dial the testosterone down a notch there kid? Any more manliness and I'm gonna sprout a spontaneous beard."

Dean blustered, taken aback by being called a  _kid._ With a long suffering look, Castiel stepped forward, hands spread.

"Please," he said gently. "We will undergo any test you wish of us. But we  _must leave."_

Gabriel grinned, winking towards Sam. "He never really caught on to the whole lying can trust Castiel with  _anything;_ it's like hanging around with a girl scout half the time. Without the cookies though. Which y'know, sucks."

Castiel kept his eyes on Dean, gaze intense and open. They really didn't  _look_ like cannibals, too beaten up and tattered to be gang thugs. And a few quick tests would eliminate the supernatural.

"Trust me," he said quietly, soulful eyes glinting, and Dean felt like he was kicking a puppy. "Please trust me."

And weirdly enough, Dean wanted to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh this fic has really taken a back burner as I worked on my DCBB and now am working my Nanowrimo. I feel like a bum, so tried to get something out. Sorry it's so short! I'm definitely not abandoning this, but updates may be slow.

There were a great many things Castiel could remember.

He could remember a tiny creature that dragged itself from the dangerous seas onto just as pitiless an earth. He could remember civilizations, born into being in a flare of flickering souls, and then destroyed in a slew of flame.

Castiel remembered the beginning of the end. The first tremors that had cracked the alabaster floors of the Hall of Prayer, their jagged crags a stark reminder of what was to come. The fear of his siblings as they murmured to one another worriedly, wondering what was to become of them too. The archangels seemed unaffected, uncaring of the signs and warnings. Castiel had begged them to see reason, beseeched Michael himself to look down upon Earth and see the darkness that rumbled beneath its crust.

But it was Raphael who took Castiel aside one cloudless afternoon, her fingers shards of lightning where they dug into the muscles of his wing.

" _Desist your squawking little seraph,"_  she had hissed.  _"It is as it should be. As it has been predicted. The Earth must be purged from the greed and corruption man has wrought."_

He had fought her then; wings flapping and body thrashing. He could remember the dull ache as she struck him, the glimmer of grace that oozed from the crack in his being.

" _Do not test me, Castiel. If I so choose, you could die with them."_

Gabriel's elbow dug sharply into his side, and Castiel's dark thoughts dissolved before his eyes. The Impala pressed in close around him, soothing and calm. The essences of the souls that had inhabited her were written into her very metal, woven into the leather of her seats. It was as if the vehicle had a soul of her own, and she murmured comfortingly to Castiel as he shifted on her seat.

His new clothes were unfamiliar and itchy against his skin, a heavy weight he was not used to. Castiel picked at the old sweatshirt curiously, nose wrinkling at the musty smell of mildew. Outside the Impala, Dean spoke to the farmer they had aided, the farmer's gruff tones polite and hushed. The Winchesters had apparently helped the farmer with a pack of unruly vampires after his remaining livestock, and the old man was incredibly grateful. He had donated old clothes for Castiel and Gabriel, even allowed them to have a brief wash in the cold water out in the barn. Gabriel had enjoyed it immensely, flicking suds at Castiel at every available opportunity as they scrubbed the past off of their new mortal skin.

Castiel scratched his thigh, the thick denim hardly moving beneath his fingers. Even his toes felt constrained, now encased in frayed and muddy boots. It was as if every inch of him was now bound within something, his body cold and aching. His back gave a twinge, and he struggled to relax, to ignore the empty space where the weight of his wings had once been. It would not be long before all his powers were lost, and he would be nothing more than mortal.

The thought did not frighten him as much as it should.

Sam had been conversing with Gabriel, his long form twisted awkwardly in the small front seat. His eyes glittered with curiosity, his very being humming with excitement. Castiel found it endearing, preferred it to the cold emptiness of his own body.

"Seriously? As in, _archangel_ Gabriel?" Sam shifted more comfortably on his knees. "You're joking right?"

Castiel could see the shadows of Sam's soul, the bright crackle that ignited within. Sam Winchester had a beautiful soul, untarnished by the world around him.

Gabriel puffed his chest proudly, and Castiel almost managed a smile. "The one and only, squirt."

Sam smiled, and mischief sparked in his eyes. "Huh. I imagined you taller."

Castiel glanced away as Gabriel lunged forward to half-heartedly try and punch Sam's arm, the taller man pulling away with a laugh. The Impala squeaked, and Castiel could see Dean glance towards the shaking car with a frown.

It would not be easy, gaining Dean's trust. The man's soul was barely visible, buried beneath layers of swirling shadow. Where Sam had remained unscathed, it seemed Dean had not; his soul as dark and mysterious as the world around them.

Sam and Gabriel settled back into their respective seats when Dean tugged the door open, the man sliding into the driver's side sullenly. The farmer waved at them beyond the windscreen, and Dean raised his hand in acknowledgement as the Impala's engine purred to life.

"Having fun?" he shot towards his brother and Sam huffed, resting his elbow along the window sill as they pulled back out onto the uneven dirt road.

"Sue me for being curious about the  _angels_ currently in the car," Sam muttered.

Castiel met Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror, and the human looked away abruptly.

"They're not angels," Dean growled. "No such thing, Sam."

Gabriel leant forward, eyes stormy and mouth open to deliver his own opinion, but Castiel reached for his brother, shaking his head slightly as he pulled Gabriel's arm. Gabriel sank back into his seat with a frown, crossing his arms sullenly.

"So where should we drop you off?" Dean asked loudly as he stared at the road ahead. "You guys have an angel hideout to go to?"

"No," Castiel replied calmly. "We cannot return home. We…were hoping to travel with you."

Gabriel glanced over at him wide eyed, but Castiel ignored him. It was in their best interests to be straightforward, hiding secrets or lying would not make Dean trust them.

"Outta the question," Dean said flatly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "We can at least take them with us to Bobby's. He'll know what to do with them, angel or not."

Castiel kept his gaze on the rearview mirror, watching Dean. When the human glanced up towards him again, Castiel kept his face carefully neutral before deliberately looking away.

Dean exhaled unhappily. "Fine. But  _only_  to Bobby's."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I've finished some projects I'll be updating this fic more regularly :) Plus my writers block is clearing (hopefully!). Thanks for sticking with!

The ride to Bobby's would take more than a day.

The four men spent a tense first night stuffed together in the car, Dean too jumpy to risk sleeping out under the stars. His fears were well founded, shortly after they settled down a distant pack could be heard howling and screeching into the night. Even the talkative Gabriel was silent, shifting closer to Castiel in the backseat as Dean muttered unhappily.

Any other small talk the next morning withered beneath Dean's glare, and even Sam decided not to push it and spent the rest of the day quietly watching the countryside pass by the Impala's window.

That night they pulled into an abandoned gas station the Winchesters frequently used. Symbols and wards had already been painted on the crumbling brick walls and along the linoleum floors, but Dean checked them all, adding a new coat to the ones that seemed too faded. Gabriel watched him, leaning against one of the old gas pumps.

"Dude is one thorough son of a bitch, I'll give him that."

Sam paused, glancing towards the angel. He had been unpacking the Impala's meager supplies, hoping to refill their almost empty water canister. He handed the last box to Castiel, who struggled to keep everything in his arms.

"And he's saved my ass more times than I can count," Sam remarked, slamming the trunk closed. "You can never be too careful these days."

Gabriel shrugged, pushing away from the pump. "I guess."

Glass crunched underfoot as Sam headed towards the store, motioning for Castiel to follow. The inside of the gas station was as derelict and ruined as the outside, empty cans and wrappers strewn amongst the wrecked shelves. The place had been hit by bandits long before the brothers found it, but Sam dutifully checked all the cracked shelves and drawers just in case. Gabriel leant over the counter, glancing at the broken cash register spewing dollar bills across the floor.

"It's different seeing it," he said quietly. He pulled away from the counter, shooting a look towards Castiel, who set down the box of supplies on the dusty counter top. The other angel merely shook his head sadly.

"Not what you expected?" Sam asked, finishing his stock check and joining them. His boots churned the debris on the floor, and he kicked an old rusty can. "Bet it probably looks a little different from up there on your cloud, strumming your harp."

Gabriel laughed, genuine and loud. The sound startled a group of rats that scurried out from under the counter, skittering around Sam's feet towards safer cover.

"You have no idea. I was the  _master_  of harp strumming and cloud fluffing."

Castiel rolled his eyes in exasperation, giving his brother a playful shove.

"Gabriel we did not have harps. Don't misinform Samuel."

Gabriel sighed heavily and Sam hid a smile.

"Why couldn't I have stuck with the brother with a sense of humor?" Gabriel said morosely, clapping the back of hand against his forehead. "No, I got stuck with Castiella the bore."

Sam rummaged through the box of supplies Castiel had set down, pulling out a few cans of food and setting them on the counter. He could still hear Dean stomping around outside, reapplying the wards where it was needed and kept a trained ear on his brother, just in case.

"So you're brothers then?" he asked, grimacing unhappily as he noticed one of the cans had leaked. "I didn't think angels had that sort of thing. Not that I'm exactly knowledgeable on you."

Gabriel hopped up onto the counter, swinging his legs like a kid. "So to speak. Technically we're all brothers and sisters. Cut from the same lousy bit of cloth so they say."

Sam grabbed a torn rag from his coat pocket, trying to clean up the mess. "But you're here. And they're not."

Gabriel's legs stopped swinging, his eyes losing their glimmer of play.

"Yeah. Here we are," he said miserably. Castiel touched his knee gently, murmuring something too low for Sam to hear.

The shuffling outside stopped, the store door squeaking open. The little bell was still intact, and it chimed happily as Dean stomped inside, tossing the cans of spray paint into the box as he passed.

"Wards are up," he ground. "Sun'll be setting soon. Anyone who has to take a leak should do it now. No-one goes out there after dark, _capisce_?"

Gabriel saluted him, sliding off the counter in a cloud of dust. "You got it, Don Winchester."

Dean glared over at Castiel. The angel was staring at him, head cocked to one side.

"That means you too, feathers," Dean growled.

Gabriel snagged his brother's arm, dragging him towards the door. "Come on, kiddo. Let's let the Winchesters have their grunting and posturing time."

The bell tinkled again, the door closing behind the two. Sam tossed the soiled rag onto the counter angrily.

"Dammit Dean, acting like a goddamn caveman isn't helping anything!" he hissed, keeping his voice down as he listened to the angels move around the side of the building. "We've got two actual  _angels_ with us. Angels, Dean! Warriors of God!"

Dean kicked at the same can Sam had targeted earlier.

"Come off it, Sam!" he shot back fiercely. "They're not angels; they're sad delusional weirdos you just took pity on."

Sam made a noise of annoyance, throwing his hands in the air.

"Whatever. You want to be pissy and broody,  _fine_. I'm actually going to try and find out what they know. They said they were looking for us, Dean. Like it or not, we're involved somehow."

Dean jabbed an angry finger towards his brother, eyes promising violence. "We're not involved in jack-shit! The sooner you get that into your bony head Sam, the sooner we can-"

The bell jingled, the door slamming open to bounce off the wall. Gabriel leant in, eyes wide.

"Guys, I don't mean to interrupt your bonding, but there's something out here."

 

* * *

 

The four men stood huddled by the gas pumps, eyes straining in the dim light. The sun was slipping below the horizon, casting an eerie red glow over the trees. It would be night soon, and God knew what lurked in the forest.

Dean held his revolver in hand, squinting down the barrel into the shadows beyond the gas pumps. "See anything?"

Sam stood a few feet away, shotgun hoisted up into the crook of his arm. He shook his head.

"No." He glanced over towards Gabriel, who was huddled close to Castiel. "You sure you saw something?"

Gabriel scanned the dark nervously, shifting from foot to foot.

"I heard it, didn't see it. Something kind of big shuffling around."

Dean dropped his revolver, tapping it impatiently against his thigh.

"Well then it was probably a deer or something," he said impatiently. "Suppose we could try catching it for din-"

Something rustled in the dark. All four men jumped, Dean snapping his revolver back up to eye level. Sam followed something with his shotgun, and there in the shadows, something seemed to separate from the trees.

"Easy," Dean muttered out the side of his mouth. "Don't shoot unless you have to, it'll bring more things running."

Castiel leant forward, staring intently into the darkness, and Dean reached out to grab a fistful of the old sweatshirt the angel now wore, fingers digging in hard.

"Are you stupid?" he hissed, yanking the angel back towards him. "Get behind me you idiot, before you get killed!"

Gabriel batted his eyes towards him. "Aww Dean-o, it's almost like you  _care_."

Dean released Castiel immediately, muttering. He could feel the angel's gaze boring holes into him, but amazingly the angel listened, shuffling back a few paces so he was behind the hunter.

Sam pointed over towards the left, at a clump of overgrown bushes.

"I think it's over there," he said lowly, shotgun ready. "I saw movement."

Dean scanned the bush, nerves strummed tight. Gabriel's breathless laugh made him jump, finger almost squeezing on the trigger. The angel shook his head with a smile, touching Sam's arm to lower the shotgun.

"It's alright, false alarm everyone."

The shuffling moved closer, paired with a snuffling sound. Dean gritted his teeth, refusing to back down.

"How the hell do you know that?" he growled. "I can't see  _shit."_

Castiel leaned in close to Dean's shoulder, and the hunter resisted the sudden urge to elbow him in the face.

"Be at ease, it is merely an animal."

Sure enough, no monster came lunging out of the bush. A mutt slunk free of the vegetation, ears back and tail between its legs as it moved into sight.

A shepard mix, it was painfully skinny, ribs sliding beneath its paper-thin skin and patchy fur. Amber eyes watched them fearfully, and it whined, dropping its belly to the ground as it came closer.

Sam grinned, relaxing. "It's a dog!"

He crouched down, making soft noises as he offered his hand. The dog didn't come any closer, halting a few feet away and whining. Dean eyed it shrewdly, but relaxed slightly, dropping his tense stance.

"Careful, Sam," he warned. "Could have rabies or some shit."

Sam ignored him, shuffling a little closer to the dog.

"Here, boy. We won't hurt you," he crooned. Amazingly, the dog responded, skinny tail thumping the ground hopefully. It wiggled closer, keeping its belly low to the ground as it zeroed in on Sam.

Castiel smiled, still standing too close. "He is merely hungry. He poses no threat."

Dean sighed unhappily as he watched Sam finally reach the dog. The mutt went crazy with glee, tail wagging at super speed as it struggled to cover Sam in disgusting dog kisses, making half-hearted yips of excitement.

"We barely have enough for us!" Dean tried to protest. "Another mouth to feed is  _not_ what we need right now, Sam. Sam?...Sammy?"

But his brother was lost, completely enamored with the dirty mutt's charms. The giant girl had wrapped his arms around the dog's neck, still making ridiculous baby noises as the dog tried desperately to lick him to death.

Dean knew a lost battle when he saw one, and muttered to himself.

Noticing his dark mood, Castiel cleared his throat.

"Perhaps we should all go inside," the angel suggested. "It will be too dark to see shortly."

Sam nodded, straightening, and the dog pranced around him, front legs spanking the earth excitedly.

"You wanna come too?" Sam crooned down at it, and the dog barked happily. "Yes you do! Yes you do!"

Dean rubbed his temples, stomping back towards the safety of the store.

"How many strays can we pick up in a day?" he muttered.

 

* * *

 

They settled in for the night in a back office. It was small and cramped, but bigger than the Impala, and Sam stretched his legs out gratefully. His new furry friend had squirmed down between his outstretched legs, burrowing under the tattered blanket Sam had claimed as his. It fell asleep like that, ribcage rising and falling as it snuffled against Sam's feet. Closer inspection had revealed it really was a boy, and probably some sort of German Shepherd mix. Sam loved dogs, always had. The ones back at the Roadhouse that Bobby kept weren't exactly friendly, so Sam had missed being around one that could be petted.

"Whatcha gonna call it?"

Sam jumped a little, but the dog didn't stir. Gabriel lay on his side, head propped on one hand. Sam chuckled, patting the dog lump on his legs.

"I was thinking Lucky. It's not just any dog who could survive on his own this long."

Gabriel nodded slowly, watching the blanket rise and fall with Lucky's breathing. His expression was strangely unreadable. "Yeah. Not just any dog."

He then flopped onto his back, stretching his arms over his head. "Lucky is a good name. I think he likes it."

Castiel was curled into an uncomfortable looking ball on Gabriel's right, squished up against the wall. The angel was apparently fast asleep, as still and silent as a corpse. Dean on the other hand was sprawled over by the door, mouth wide open and snoring. Sam shook his head at his brother.

"He'll come around," he said outloud, and Gabriel glanced towards him. "You just…have to give him time."

Understanding they weren't talking about the dog anymore, Gabriel nodded absently.

"Hey, I get it. Two weird guys turn up randomly and announce they're angels…" he shrugged. "I'd be suspicious too."

Sam shifted his legs slightly, and Lucky growled in his sleep.

"So why are you here? Why find us?"

Gabriel shrugged at the ceiling. "That's a conversation I think we need to have with this Bobby you're talking about. If he's as awesome as you've said."

Sam smiled. "He is. We grew up with him, closest thing we have to a Dad now, I guess. Helped us out more than a few times. If anyone knows anything about everything, it's Bobby."

Gabriel was staring at the far wall. Once this had been someone's personal office, and some photos were still stuck up on the grimy wall. They were faded and the edges curled and yellowed, but proudly displayed two kids, a boy and a girl. Someone's kids. Sam wondered if they were still out there somewhere.

"Sounds nice. To have something to go home to," Gabriel said quietly.

"And you don't?"

The question hung in the air, the photos staring down at them both. Finally Gabriel shook his head, tilting his head towards the sleeping Castiel.

"Not anymore."

Sam left it at that, settling lower down under the ratty blanket. With Lucky a warm weight along his legs and Dean's snores in the background, he eventually settled into a peaceful sleep.

He dreamed of wings.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter set to be more action-y, still figuring out this universe I guess haha, so thanks for bearing with the slowness. Thanks for the kudos guys! Means a lot :) I also think I have a angel!family fetish or something, I just love them all argh.

Michael had gone too far this time.

Cupids squeaked and hurried out of the way, little wings flapping furiously as they whispered to one another. Seraphs cringed, hiding their faces behind their shaking wings as a furious archangel stormed by.

One angel, braver than the rest, tried to catch the archangel's arm, her wings fluttering nervously as she tried to pull him back.

"Gabriel,  _please_ you'll only make it worse-"

Gabriel shoved her away with a snap of his wings.

"Out of my way, Anael," he snarled, and his grace crackled menacingly. "If Michael thinks he can keep me on the sidelines on this one, he's  _wrong._  The court of Penance? It hasn't been used in years! Centuries!"

Anael looked distraught, her pretty red hair disheveled and dark circles under her eyes. "You can't be serious! It's his own fault, Gabriel. Castiel was standing on the steps of the library and telling the seraphs we should be down there,  _fighting_  the mahorela-avini! It's crazy talk, and you didn't even try to stop hi-"

" _He's_   _right and you know it!"_

Gabriel's true voice boomed like thunder as he rounded on the younger angel, sending the cupids shrieking. Anael froze, wings twitching.

"Not you too," she whispered fearfully, and Gabriel turned away, disgusted. "Not you too, Gabriel. Not an archangel."

He ignored her. Two angels had been posted to guard the large marble doors of the court of Penance. They raised their swords warningly as he stomped towards them, but with a flick of his fingers, they crumpled to the floor.

But even shoving with all of his grace, the heavy marble doors of the court merely shuddered, refusing to budge. Gabriel recognized the thrum of power, the undercurrent of amusement at his anger.

He smiled humorlessly.

"Raphael. Always underestimating me, sister."

Anael shook her head pleadingly, trying one last time to placate him. She lunged for his arm again, tears in her bright eyes.

"Please, don't. Don't, Gabriel."

Ignoring her, Gabriel gathered all the fury he could muster. It felt like a tangible beast in his chest, a burning snarling mess of raw power, longing to be set free. With a flap of his wings, Gabriel obliged it, unleashing a huge burst of energy that sent Raphael's wards shriveling into nothing. The huge doors cracked open, sending blocks of charred marble slamming to the floor. All of heaven could feel the vibrations, and Gabriel swept in through the hole he had made, feeling victorious.

It was Michael he saw first, his brother seated high on a chair that looked way too much like a tacky throne.

"Really, Gabriel?" Michael asked dryly, tapping a slim finger against the arm of his self-made throne. "Such dramatics."

Raphael glowered beside him. Both archangels were dressed in their fine battle armor, all gleaming metal and gold. Gabriel paused at that, looking around the room bewilderedly. All the high ranking angels were present, all in battle armor.

That didn't mean anything good. Battle armor was for posturing, for showing strength.

Gabriel took an aggressive step forward, wings fanning.

"What is this?" he growled. "I've been told you dragged a seraph of mine in here. Do I have to remind you that Castiel is under  _my_ garrison? A council meeting about any misconduct should have included me."

Michael glanced over at Raphael, who sighed deeply, rising from her seat. The snarling lion on her chest plate leered back at Gabriel.

"This is no mere council meeting, brother. This is a trial. You were deemed too… _invested_ in the situation. Your views would not be beneficial to the council."

Gabriel's wings shook with anger, and he struggled to control himself, taking a deep breath.

"I wasn't aware we still had  _trials_  in heaven," he managed, voice tight. "What are we, still in the middle ages?"

Raphael snorted delicately. "Ancient punishments for ancient beliefs. Castiel has made no attempt to atone for his blasphemy."

"Blasphemy?" Gabriel echoed, and the angels lining the walls murmured to one another. "What blasphemy? Did he knock up a nun? Fiddle a friar? Oh I got it, penetrated a priest! I told Balthazar he was a bad influence."

Michael glared down at him. "Quit your jest, Gabriel! Castiel's sins are unforgiveable. We have formed our decision. Your,  _dramatic,_ entrance only brings embarrassment to yourself."

Gabriel made a noise of annoyance, his wings gesturing wildly. "Sins?  _Fate?_ Are we suddenly the inquisition? Do you even listen to yourself?"

Raphael motioned towards one of the guards by the wall. Nodding, the angel disappeared. He appeared a moment later, accompanied by a mean looking angel called Zachariah and-

Gabriel recoiled in horror as he recognized his younger brother. Zachariah pushed the dejected angel forward, and Castiel hit the floor on his knees, head bowed. His wings were bloody and puffed, sluggish trails of dark blood oozing down his back and arms. His flight feathers had been plucked, yanked out as a visible punishment for daring to speak out against heaven. As Gabriel gaped, several smaller feathers floated to the floor, crusted and matted. Castiel kept his eyes on the floor, but Gabriel recognized the stance of his body, the way he easily avoided Zachariah's kick.

 _Down but never beaten_ , Gabriel thought proudly.

Enraged the lower seraph had avoided his kick, Zachariah grabbed a fistful of Castiel's feathers, snapping several as he forced the seraph to look at him.

"He's hardly worth such drama, Gabriel," Raphael said boredly, uncaring as Castiel grunted in pain. "Such a little thing to get so angry over."

Zachariah twisted harder, eyes gleeful as Castiel groaned, blood hitting the polished marble floor. Gabriel hissed, sweeping forward in a flurry of puffed wings. Zachariah took a fearful step back and the archangel seized the opportunity to grab Castiel, bundling the seraph into the safety of his arms.

"Have you lost your mind?" Gabriel snarled towards a dispassionate Michael, knocking Zachariah flat with a buffet of his wing. "This isn't done! Hasn't been done! Not since-"

"Lucifer." Raphael interrupted coolly. "You are correct, brother. It has not been done since him, but is needed none the less."

Gabriel checked Castiel's shaking wings. They hadn't plucked them completely, but they were bleeding and in obvious pain. Castiel murmured to him reassuringly, trying to touch Gabriel's wings with his battered and bloody own, but Gabriel was too enraged now, too furious to stop.

"Needed?" he spat. "Castiel hasn't done anything!"

"He questions the divine plan," Zachariah cut in, scrambling to his feet and glaring coldly at Castiel. "It is blasphemy. He must be cast out."

Gabriel made a rude face at him. "Oh go boil your fat head Zachariah, no-one asked you!"

"He is nothing but a lowly seraph, Gabriel," Michael said. "Calm yourself."

Gabriel tightened his hand on Castiel's arm, pulling the younger angel in close against his side. His wings curled protectively around the seraph, shielding him from the harsh looks of their other siblings.

" _No!"_

Every angel in the court fell silent, even Michael sitting up straighter. Castiel murmured to Gabriel worriedly, trying to calm him, to stop him from stumbling down the same bloody path Castiel had so blindly fallen. Gabriel merely held him close, the archangel's rage beginning to bleed from his eyes in sticky gold tendrils.

"I believed in you once, Michael," Gabriel growled. "I believed you were right, and Michael, I stood by you. Lucifer was cast down because he refused to love mankind."

He could feel the slow warm ooze of blood along his arm, Castiel struggling to keep his wings away from the archangel's pristine skin. To avoid sullying him with the same poison of  _free will_. Of  _opinions._

Heaven was so much more fucked than he had thought.

Gabriel took a step forward, pointing accusingly at his eldest brother. "And now you want to throw out another brother  _for_ loving them? You've lost it Michael. You're fucking  _insane._ "

"Gabriel," Raphael warned, lightning crackling in her eyes. "You are an archangel, but I will not tolerate such disrespect and disob-"

"You can all go straight to hell!" Gabriel roared, wings spreading wide. His grace boiled, and angels winced at the light, cowering away from him. Only Castiel stood still, watching Gabriel with disbelieving eyes. "Earth is under attack and you do  _nothing!_ Mankind is dying and you sit up here and squabble!"

Michael's wings quivered with anger as he slowly rose, and even Raphael stepped away from him.

"You defy God," he whispered. "You would defy the plan that He has set in motion-"

"Plan?" Gabriel barked with laughter and there were gasps around him. "Don't pretend this is some glorious miracle that Father has ordered. This is to benefit  _your_ selfish needs. You want them gone don't you? You want the humans gone so you and Lu-"

"That's enough!" Raphael intervened, the ceiling of the court going dark with storm clouds. "Curb your tongue brother or I will cut it from your mouth!"

"God is gone!" Gabriel shot back, uncaring of his sister's threats. "He left! And if He could see what you've done-"

Gabriel stared Michael down, sensing everything was about to change. There was no going back from this if he continued. No forgiveness.

He glanced over at Castiel.

He barely knew the seraph, the kid was yet another brother of many. Why should Gabriel throw away everything? On  _Castiel._  Castiel the odd one, who had opinions and dreams and far too much heart for his own good. Castiel, who for such a lowly seraph managed to piss off the most powerful, preaching love for humans and how they should be protected. Castiel, who took on heaven itself because he thought they were  _wrong._ The only angel in all of creation to actually have balls and stand up for something.

It spoke of a similar angel long gone. But honestly, Gabriel couldn't think of a better angel to go rogue for.

The archangel shook his head, turning back to stare up at Michael. "Father would be fucking  _ashamed_ of us. Of  _you._ "

The court was silent, all angels slowly turning their frightened faces towards Michael, towards the right hand of God. No emotion crossed Michael's face.

"I see."

Slowly he sank back down on his throne, only Raphael remaining on her feet. Taking the matter into her own hands, she squared her shoulders. Her wings flickered uncertainly, and Gabriel felt a thrill of satisfaction to know he had finally done it; he had actually ruffled her feathers to the point of no return.

"Gabriel, I will ask you once, and once only."

She looked at him seriously, and for a moment Gabriel thought he detected fear in her eyes.

"Apologize. Castiel will face his fate and we will forget about your little…spat. But you will apologize to our brother and repent for your words."

Gabriel grinned, wings already coiling, feathers spreading and ready to fly, ready to fight, whatever may come.

"You want my final answer? No phone a friend or ask the audience?"

He glanced around the room, at the angels he had called family for so long. Anael stood by the ruined door, her hands to her mouth as she pleaded with her eyes for him to submit, to stop while he still could.

Gabriel tightened his hold on Castiel, tilting his chin as he looked unflinchingly towards Michael.

"Fuck  _you_."

 

* * *

 

" _Son of a bitch!_ "

Gabriel blinked, realizing he had been staring dumbly off into space, daydreaming. Dean was cursing colorfully, rubbing his head as he pulled out from underneath the Impala's open hood. Sam winced in sympathy.

"No luck huh?" he asked, fingers rubbing Lucky behind the ears as the dog sat at his feet. The midday sun was warm, and the shepherd panted happily, tongue lolling. Tiny droplets of spit hit the asphalt, and Gabriel chuckled, giving the dog a quick pat on the shoulder.

Dean shook his head, wiping his grimy hands on his thighs. "No. Baby's had it. Goddammit I  _knew_ I should'a listened when Bobby said to replace the damn line.  _Fuck._ "

Castiel craned to look at the exposed engine. "It cannot be fixed?"

Dean glared at him, slamming the hood closed. "No,  _she_ can't. We aren't going anywhere on wheels."

Sam shrugged. "Well I guess we walk. We can probably make it to the old scrapyard before dark. We can radio Bobby from there."

Lucky whined, tail wagging as if he agreed with the idea.

"This scrapyard, it is close to your friends?" Castiel asked, wisely stepping out of Dean's way as the man stomped towards the trunk.

"Yeah," Sam opened the passenger side, snagging his blanket. "We can spend the night there. Safer than out here in any case."

Dean hauled two duffels out of the trunk, dropping them heavily onto the road.

"Wouldn't it have been nice to, oh I dunno, maybe have some dudes with  _wings_  right now?" he asked wryly.

Gabriel felt a flare of irritation, and Lucky whined again.

"Watch it there, kid. Don't go yelling at the wrong angels. We're here to help you, as much we can."

Dean snorted, shrugging off Sam's attempt to talk to him and scooping up his duffle.

"Yeah," he muttered, hoisting the bag over his shoulder. "Great job you're doing."

Sam shook his head, stooping to pick up his own duffle as he watched his brother storm ahead.

"Give him a few miles, he'll cool down." Sam bit his lip as he watched Dean move further away. "I hope."

Gabriel arched an eyebrow, giving Castiel a nudge with his elbow. "A few  _hundred_  maybe."

They walked.

After an hour Dean slowed down enough for them to catch up, though he stayed an angry figure out front. Castiel was just behind, obviously wanting to say something but wisely instead keeping his distance. Gabriel trailed behind with Sam, hands in his jean pockets as he watched the human play a game of fetch with Lucky. The dog was delirious, mouth stretched wide and smiling as he chased after the scrawny stick Sam threw for him, tan coat weaving in and out of the tall grass of the fields framing the road.

Finally, Sam sighed.

"I'm sorry about Dean," he said awkwardly. "You know, if he offended you."

Gabriel looked over at him, surprised. "Believe it or not, but I'm made of sterner stuff. I get it."

Lucky bounded up, barreling into Sam's long legs. Sam grabbed the now soggy stick, sending it flying with a graceful throw. "You do? I kinda thought archangels were a little more…touchy."

Gabriel watched the stick as it arced across the sky, before disappearing from view into the grass. "Yeah well, most of us are. It's the older sibling part of us I guess. Gotta look out for the younger ones."

Sam snorted. "Younger siblings can look after themselves just fine."

"Oh sure," Gabriel agreed, eyes shifting to watch Castiel's back. The seraph had seen something interesting, a bug or something float by, and he was watching it, completely enraptured. "But that's life. Big bros look after the little bros."

Lucky popped his head out of the grass, one ear inside out. He streaked back towards Sam, who laughing, bent down to correct his ear.

"Well  _I_ don't need looking out for. Sometimes I wish Dean would remember that."

Gabriel smiled over at the young man. "I'm sure you don't, kiddo. But sometimes it's hard for big bros to just…relax you know? Everything is so scary, gotta somehow stop it all."

He hunched his shoulders, wishing he could still feel his wings. "Sometimes we lose sight of it all and things…things just slip through."

Sam nodded solemnly, throwing the stick again much to Lucky's delight. "Is that what this all is? Something that just...slipped through?"

Gabriel laughed, taking his hands out of his pockets to spread his arms. "This? This is what heaven calls a miracle, Sam. Rejoice!"

Sam rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "Some miracle. Does heaven have a complaint box I could write to?"

Gabriel swayed close to bump the human with his shoulder. Sam was physically much taller than him, and he ended up bumping his elbow.

"That's pretty much what I said."

He smiled, and Sam mirrored it back, genuine and warm.

 

* * *

 

Castiel listened as Gabriel laughed, the dog barking in the field. Dean was still a dark shape ahead, and Castiel wavered, unsure of what to do. The past weeks spent with his brother had been difficult, spent searching for the two men they currently accompanied but now they were finally  _here…_

He didn't know what to do.

Dean was angry, and loud and…frightening. Castiel didn't even know where to begin attempting to talk to the man. He wished he had Gabriel's easy manner, his humor. The archangel obviously conversed with Sam easily, the two speaking to one another as if friends. Castiel on the other hand had never been particularly good at social interactions. A fact Balthazar had gleefully informed him of time and time again.

He shifted his shoulders, wincing slightly at the dull ache he could still feel. Perhaps it would be a mercy when all his powers truly failed, he would not be constantly reminded of his forcible exit from heaven, the violence he had himself begun.

Castiel felt a twinge of guilt as he heard Gabriel laugh again. It had never been his intention to drag any angel down with him, let alone an archangel. Gabriel should still be in heaven, not trailing after a seraph who couldn't take orders.

"Dude, you've practically got a thunder cloud brewing over your head."

Castiel jumped, eyes widening as he realized Dean had slowed, allowing Castiel to catch up to him. The human fell into step with him, a few feet away.

Castiel cleared his throat, embarrassed. "My apologies. I was…thinking."

Dean snorted. "So you got more in that head of yours than just feathers? Amazing."

If he could have, Castiel would have puffed his wings with annoyance. "I don't expect you to accept my true nature Dean, but I  _am_ here to help. I am not your enemy."

Dean rolled his eyes, but didn't appear as angry as before. "If you're so damn angelic, why don't you just magic us there? Or fly us, whatever?"

"I would if it were possible, Dean," Castiel said quietly.

To his surprise, Dean stopped completely, eyes narrow and fierce as he stared the Castiel down.

"Don't do that."

Castiel looked at the human in bewilderment. "What?"

"Say my name like that."

Castiel nearly rolled his eyes. Was Dean ever happy? "And how do I say your name?"

"Like you fucking  _know_  me!" Dean growled, starting his quick walk again. "You don't know anything, so quit it."

Castiel bit his tongue, willing himself to remain calm. Losing his temper would accomplish nothing. If he was to gain Dean's trust, he must respect the human's wishes.

They walked in silence, Castiel struggling to keep up with Dean's long strides. He noticed the man's legs curved slightly inwards and wondered at the cause. He wisely didn't ask however.

After a good time had passed, Dean slowed to walk beside Castiel again.

"Say…say you are an angel," he said gruffly, and Castiel remained silent, merely rubbing his arms against the slight chill in the air.

Dean stared down the road, jaw tensing. "Say, you  _are_  an angel. What the fuck took you so long?"

Castiel carefully avoided Dean's eyes, merely following the curve of the road ahead. He noticed the gently swaying grasses, the chirps of insects and birds hidden in the grass.

"It was not…simple," he said slowly. "Time passes differently in heaven. And we cannot simply leave and walk upon the Earth like you. It is forbidden."

Dean frowned, but he was looking at Castiel now, his green eyes focused and curious.

"But why now? Why not last year, or two years or…whatever."

Castiel watched a hare in the distance. The animal had been resting on the sun warmed road, but sat up to attention as it noticed the approaching figures. Lucky spotted it as well, and took off in a flurry of limbs, barking. The hare was much quicker and bolted for cover, but Lucky went after it anyways, much to Sam's dismay as he shouted for the dog to return.

"I couldn't stand by any longer," Castiel said quietly, barely audible over the din. "My siblings were content to watch the world fall to ruin, they even encouraged it. I…I could not."

"Well, good for you," Dean grunted. He glanced back towards Sam and Gabriel. Sam was wading through the grass, angrily calling for the shepherd to return as Gabriel stayed on the road, calling out encouraging words that were actually anything but.

"And you dragged an archangel down with you."

Castiel winced, the aching in his back intensifying for a moment.

"I did not want Gabriel to come. But he is…impossible to dissuade at times. A family trait I suppose."

For a moment, it seemed that Dean smiled a little.

"That I can believe."

The hunter hoisted the duffle more securely on his shoulder. "Look, I don't believe in that stuff. Heaven, God, it's all just a load of crap to me."

Dean looked back at the angel, eyes serious. "But Sam believes in it. And if it turns out you're lying…"

The threat went unspoken. Castiel nodded, listening as Sam caught Lucky, wrangling the dog back towards the road.

"I understand."

Dean turned away, strides lengthening once again.

"Dean?" Castiel called out, before he could stop himself.

The hunter paused, shoulders tense.

Castiel exhaled shakily. "Thank you."

Dean said nothing, merely nodding tightly before resuming his punishing march forward.

Castiel watched him, unsure of whether or not they had actually reached an understanding. It was better than nothing however, or so Gabriel would say.

Castiel smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I haven't abandoned this! Life just really doesn't want me to write this *sigh*. Sorry for the uber late update!

The scrapyard was overgrown, the rusty husks of old cars pushing up through the scraggly grass like tombstones in a graveyard. A dilapidated shack squatted in the center of the yard, the wooden slats of its walls rotting and crumbling. The single glass window was cracked and broken, the slight breeze toying with the moth bitten drapes beyond.

Castiel stood awkwardly by the hollowed out shell of a truck, listening as Sam struggled to reach anyone on the radio inside the shack. Apparently the apparatus was faulty, the human was cursing under his breath as he slapped the plastic angrily.

Dean was crouched between two cars, metal jingling. He appeared to be making some sort of trap system. A frayed line of rope was strung up between the cars, various bits of metal and empty cans dangling from it. The metal clattered as the human tied the rope off, giving it an experimental flick.

"I'm blown away by the high tech equipment you use," Gabriel commented wryly. "What next? A pointy stick? _Two_ pointy sticks? Or hey, maybe you guys have heard of this crazy whacky thing called a _fire!_ "

Dean turned to glower at the archangel, but said nothing. Gabriel sat in the dirt, Lucky draped across his crossed legs. Castiel knew his brother was irritated, upset that the Winchesters deemed the angels still too untrustworthy to give a weapon to. Gabriel felt helpless and vulnerable and Castiel could not blame him. The thought that they may have to do battle with creatures now more powerful than them…

It was frightening.

Lucky raised his head as Sam clattered out of the shack, the broken door squeaking.

"Radio is a no go," Sam said grimly. "Something got inside and chewed away the wires."

To Castiel's surprise, Dean did not get angry. He merely nodded, turning back to his rudimentary alarm system.

"It was a long shot anyways. Bobby hasn't used this place in years."

Sam moved to his brother's side, biting his lip worriedly.

"You sure that's really necessary Dean? We have the wards-"

The cans jangled as Dean stood up, rubbing his dirty hands against his thighs. "Wards don't hold them anymore Sam. At least _this-_ " He kicked at the rope and the assorted metal clanged loudly. "Might give us a heads up that something is coming."

Gabriel snorted. "And then we run for the hills right? Excellent plan. I'm just brimming with confidence."

Dinner was a quiet affair, two cans of identified meat shared between them all. Castiel ate his methodically, unnerved by the textures and taste. He had nothing to compare the experience to, but he found himself wondering if all food tasted the same. Sam snuck some of his portion to Lucky, the dog growling happily as he tucked into his own meal at Sam's feet.

After a final perimeter check, they settled in for the night. They had gathered what they could from the old cars, a whole seat here,  a cushion there. Leaning up against the shack, they made a rough sleeping area, protected on one side at least.

Castiel and Gabriel ended up sharing a seat pilfered from a station wagon. The fabric was frayed, patches of foam spilling out of jagged holes obviously made by rodents. Gabriel shifted uncomfortably, wriggling against Castiel's back.

"Why can't we spread out on the shack floor?" he complained. "There's a spring in my butt."

Sam chuckled off to his right. The man was propped up against the shack itself, shotgun lying next to him and Lucky spread across his legs. "Too enclosed. If something comes in the night, it'd box us in."

Gabriel sighed unhappily, curling himself closer around Castiel. Castiel allowed it, even when Gabriel manhandled him into a better position, the archangel tucking the seraph under his chin, close against his chest. It was awkward at best, Castiel was taller than Gabriel, but they managed eventually with Castiel winding his arms around his brother's waist and hiding his face in Gabriel's throat. Castiel could feel the worried thump of Gabriel's heart against his cheek and he struggled to relax, to reassure the archangel all was well.

Around them, the night was coming alive. A cricket sang from the grass, a squirrel skittering in the trees. Castiel could even hear the gentle rustles and breathing of a family of mice living within the crumbling walls of the shack. No doubt the culprits that had eaten the radio.

Slowly, Gabriel's breathing slowed, his heart calming. Sam's soft snores were peaceful, and Castiel lay quietly, wondering what sleep would be like. Like everything else, Gabriel did it effortlessly, but Castiel still held back. He was frightened, he realized. Unsure of what may lie in wait behind his closed eyes.

Dean was still awake, sat on an old lawn chair that had seen better days. The hunter had settled near the line he had tied, fingers curled around his gun. Castiel risked pulling his face from Gabriel's warm embrace, peering curiously over at the human. Dean was looking up at the stars, his gaze far away. Castiel followed his sight, but saw nothing in the sky beyond the black. Even the stars were muted, hiding their gaze from the earth below.

 _Are you watching Michael?_ Castiel wondered grimly. _Do you see what's become of this world?_  

Lucky lifted his head and yawned, rising from Sam's lap. The dog stretched as he moved, slowly padding over to slump heavily against Dean. The human blinked, jolted from his silent vigil of the heavens. Lucky whined, pushing his nose into the crook of Dean's arm, and the human chuckled, reaching over to pet him.

The cans clanked.

Gabriel startled awake at the same time Sam did. Dean had frozen, watching the line intently. The night was quiet; there was no breeze that could have disturbed the line.

In the scrapyard a car squeaked on its hinges.

Sam was on his feet, grabbing their meager supplies immediately. Castiel rolled away from Gabriel, crouching in the dirt as he stared out into the night. Something skittered behind one of the cars, and Castiel saw a flash of white.

"Just like we talked about," Dean muttered lowly as they moved into a defensive position, backs together. "No breaking ranks, no running unless I say. We move together."

Lucky was growling, the fur on his neck puffed in warning. His white teeth were stark against his black lips as he snarled at the shadows, head low and legs stiff.

Sam tried to follow the shapes with his gun, slinging his duffle across his shoulder. "How many?"

Gabriel turned in a slow circle, face grim. "I count eight. Looks like it's our old buddies from the other night."

Dean swore under his breath. "Alright, but no reason we can't take them if we do this right. Just keep your eyes open and be ready t-"

The night exploded in a blast of red as the wards were compromised. Castiel had barely blinked the dark spots from his eyes when the first creature reached them, mouth stretched wide and screaming. The boom of Dean's shotgun put it down in a splatter of black blood, just as another barreled in from the left, talons swiping at Sam.

Gabriel blocked it with his arm, delivering a solid kick to the creature's bony stomach. It yowled, tilting away from him and Lucky darted in, teeth snapping.

More were gathering, Castiel could see them now. They crouched on the cars, white eyes shimmering in the dark. Castiel dodged one as it skittered towards him, but another grabbed his leg, tugging hard.

The angel went sprawling, elbow jarring against the packed dirt. Two of the mahorela-avini darted in, slavering and snapping at his face. Castiel rolled to his side, bringing his throbbing arm up to protect his throat. Needle sharp teeth sank into the flesh of his bicep and he cried out, jerking his knee up in an attempt to dislodge the creature.

His knee sank into the decaying flesh of its abdomen, and a foul liquid sluiced over his jeans. The creature died with a guttural moan, and Castiel scrambled to his feet hurriedly, punching away the other. It retreated a few feet, breathing heavily through its blackened mouth as its brethren chattered excitedly in the shadows.

"We gotta move!" Dean shouted as Gabriel pulled Castiel back towards them.  "They're gonna surround us if we stay here."

Lucky was barking furiously as more shapes seemed to materialize from the forest.

 Sam swallowed. "They already have."

Dean started shuffling them all backwards, around the shack. Castiel kept his back firmly against Gabriel's, warning the mahorela-avini off with weak sparks of the grace he had left.

"We get to high ground," Dean continued. "Force our way through their line and get to a better defensive point. Long as we can keep them off, we can wait them out 'till dawn."

Gabriel chuckled humorlessly. "Like I said, turn and run for the hills. Great plan."

The creatures were no longer attacking, seemingly content to circle the four as they moved slowly towards the tree line. Castiel's heart was pounding, a sickening thump so loud to his ears he was certain the creatures could hear it.

_Brother._

Castiel swiveled his head towards Gabriel. The archangel was grim-faced, snarling old Enochian when one of the creatures got too close. He had not spoken.

_Dear, brother._

"What is this?" Castiel whispered fiercely. "Gabriel do you hear-"

  _He cannot hear me as you do, sweet thing._

They were almost to the trees. Dean was hurrying them along, Lucky keeping the creatures at bay with snaps of his teeth. They were so close, only a few more-

_Are you not curious, brother? Do you not wish to hear what I might say?_

Despite his better judgment, Castiel glanced back.

She stood by the cushion Castiel had lain upon only minutes before, her head cocked to the side curiously. It was the same mahorela-avini from before; he recognized her face, the lifeless eyes that gleamed back at him with a newfound intelligence.

_We are not so different, you and I. Come to me brother and I will show you._

"You are no kin of mine!" he snapped back. Dean was shouting over the racket of the monsters, Sam's voice worried as he replied.

She laughed, head tilted back and lank hair swinging.

_But we are. Too long have you been in the light, brother. How it has burned you so, flying too close to the sun._

"Castiel!"

Gabriel lurched into him, fingers curling around the seraph's arm. Gabriel may be only half the angel had been, but Castiel could still feel his power, the hints of light that bled from the cracks in his mortal skin. The creatures sensed it too, wailing as they fell back.

It was the distraction the group needed, and Dean pushed them all onwards into the forest, shouting. Confused and reeling, Castiel followed Gabriel blindly, grabbing his brother's hand in his. The skin beneath his palm was slick with sweat, and Castiel felt a fissure of real fear as he heard the creatures recover and give chase. The four struggled on, Castiel's legs burning as they followed the line of the earth upwards, up towards higher ground.

 _Oh brother where art though?_ The silky voice tittered in his mind, and Castiel's steps faltered. _You may run, but you cannot hide._

A bloated figure lunged from behind a bush, catching Gabriel sideways. The archangel disappeared into the shadows, his hand wrenched from Castiel's. For a moment Castiel flailed in the darkness, but momentum carried him forward and he stumbled. The hill was steep, and Castiel struggled to regain his footing. A pale face loomed in the dark, teeth snapping and Castiel yelped, twisting his body away from the creature.

His foot caught on a gnarled root and the angel was lost, tumbling down the hill.

Twigs and rocks bit into his arms as he rolled, and Castiel scrambled to anchor himself, to stop his helpless tumble. He could hear the creatures calling to each other, Gabriel's worried shouts rising above them.

Damp leaves squished against his forearms, the forest floor rising up to meet Castiel again and again. His body ached, and it was almost with a relief when Castiel suddenly hit water. The sudden shock made his bruised body seize, and Castiel spluttered, throwing his arms out to brace himself. It was a small river, shallow enough to stand in, but the angel struggled to get his legs to cooperate, to stand in the ice cold water.

There was a screech, and a heavy weight slammed into Castiel's back. The angel was forced under the water, arms and legs furiously kicking as something held him down. The water felt like needles against his face, and Castiel bucked wildly, trying to dislodge his attacker as the water tried to force its way into his lungs.

 _Shh sweet one._ The voice crooned again. _It will all be over soon._

His lungs were burning, screaming for air and Castiel tried to rise up, to stand and get the creature off him. But he was too tired, his body too cold and numb.

_You will be one of us, brother. How handsome you will be. Let me show yo-_

The voice in his head screamed, and Castiel heard a muffled explosion of gunfire beyond the water. The weight left him.

Castiel reared up, breaking the surface and gasping in burning lungful's of air. He dully realized a hand was clamped around his arm, someone hauling him up and out of the water. Castiel's teeth chattered, and he blinked to clear his blurry vision.  Someone was shaking him, roaring words at him as gunfire continued around them.

A sharp sting against his cheek made his vision clear for a moment, and Castiel shook himself. He finally recognized the anxious face that glared back at him.

Dean's eyes were dark, his hair wet and sticking to his forehead. He gave the angel another shake.

"I said, can you _walk!?_ "

Sam was sliding down the hill behind them, reloading his gun. Gabriel followed behind, bloody and bruised, but alive.

Dean's hand was raised again, and Castiel nodded hurriedly, getting his aching legs under him at last. "Yes I…I think so."

Lucky was by Dean's side, the dog covered in black blood and snarling at the corpse that had very nearly killed Castiel.

Dean was less than gentle as he manhandled Castiel out of the water. "Good. Now if you're finished playing, we have to keep going."

Gabriel hurried towards them, reaching out grab Castiel's arm worriedly. "I thought I'd lost you there, kiddo."

Castiel smiled tiredly, shivering in his wet clothes. "I am alive. Thanks to Dean."

The human's expression was unreadable as he turned away, beckoning to Sam to follow. Gabriel slung Castiel's arm across his neck, tucking the seraph close against his side.

"C'mon little brother, we're not out of the woods yet. Literally."

Castiel leant against his brother, throwing a glance back up the hill he had fallen. He thought for a moment he could see the faint outline of the female, but she was gone in an instant. In the dark sky, a red glow blossomed, lighting up the night. The creatures fled from it, screaming unhappily. Castiel looked at it curiously, his mind still sluggish.

"What is that?" he asked, struggling to keep his speech from slurring. Gabriel glanced upwards, smiling briefly.

"Now that is what I like to call a _real_ miracle."

Sam slowed slightly, the young man's face streaked with dirt and blood. "Even better than that," he grinned. "That's Rufus. Only guy I know who invented the UV flare."

Gabriel shifted Castiel's weight against him. "Rufus? A friend I hope."

Sam's joy was infectious and Lucky pranced around them, tail held high as he barked at the retreating monsters.

"Oh yeah," Sam said over the noise. "That my friends, is the sight of rescue."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to try and update more regularly :)

_"Hands where I can see them, pretty boy!"_

The voice rang out from the trees, booming and fierce. Groggily, Castiel looked around for its owner, seeing menacing shapes in every shadow. He felt too slow, cold and numb. Gabriel was a warm weight beside him, propping the younger angel up despite his shorter height. Sam trailed slightly ahead, casting worried glances behind him to check for any following enemies.

Castiel could hear the distant shrieks and growls as the creatures retreated back to the scrapyard, screeching metal signaling that the monsters would not leave the place untouched.

_Brother…_

Dean strode ahead of them all, confident and smiling as he slung his gun over one shoulder.

"Really, Rufus? Do we have to go through this every time?"

Lucky growled warningly as a group of figures stepped out from the forest's shadows. The dog peeled away from Sam's side, slinking back towards the angels with his tail between his legs. Gabriel's arm tightened around Castiel.

The strange men were all grim looking. Their leader, a weathered looking man dressed similarly to the Winchesters in ratty flannel, cocked his hip, eyeing Dean as he approached. His black hair was peppered with white; the lines of his face deep even in the dim light.

Gabriel was holding his breath, his shoulders tense as Lucky growled unhappily.

Slowly the stormy expression melted into a wide smile. The man laughed, moving forward with open arms.

"Son of a bitch if you aren't a sight for old eyes!" The two men embraced briefly, slapping each other's backs affectionately. The other men all visibly relaxed. "And Sam! Damn boy, have you grown even taller?"

Castiel and Gabriel stood awkwardly as greetings and hugs were exchanged. Lucky lay flat on the ground behind the angels, ears back.

Rufus finally pulled away, shaking his head. "What the hell were you doing at the scrapyard? Place was overrun with some foulmouthed gnomes last time I checked."

He finally noticed the two awkward angels, and he arched his eyebrow, shooting a questioning look towards Dean.

"Huh. Picking up strays now?"

Dean's good humor evaporated, and he scowled. "Don't get me started."

Sam cut in quickly before his brother could continue. "The scrap yard is overrun alright, but no gnomes.  _They_  were after us, Rufus."

The older man didn't have to ask. He knew what it was that had followed the Winchesters. "Well that's not the news I was hoping to hear, but can't say I'm surprised. They've been sniffing the borders more often lately, got everyone on edge."

He motioned towards the dark forest. The distant screeching at the scrapyard could still be heard. "Bobby set up a warning spell on that ol' junk-pit weeks ago. Just in case something bigger than a gnome ever fancied a visit." Rufus smiled. "Looks like you two boneheads set it off. Lucky for you right?"

Dean smiled briefly, but it was strained. "You have no idea."

Rufus nodded to himself. "Let's get you back to the town. I'm betting you have some story to tell."

 

* * *

 

By the time they reached the town, the sun was beginning to rise.

The dirt road they had followed after leaving the forest had seemly stretched on for hours; Castiel did not know how long they had been walking. He was exhausted, and judging from Gabriel's gritted teeth, he was not the only one. At least his clothes were now dry, and walking had restored the feeling in his legs. Lucky refused to walk next to Sam no matter how the human had tried to cajole him. The dog stuck firmly to the angels, ever since they had come across the fence.

After clearing the forest, they had walked a mile or two before they hit it. At first it seemed just a plain wire fence, but as they started to follow it, Castiel saw various types of metal and wood hammered into place to reinforce it. Chairs, tables, car bumpers, anything and everything was used to reinforce it.

The fence itself stretched a few feet above their heads, rolls of barbed wire welded along the top. Through gaps in the splintering wood, Castiel could see fields, buildings. Rufus called out now and then, and a figure would peer down at them, replying in same. Dean seemed to know most of them, and cheerful shouts and greetings were exchanged.

But it was not the fence itself that had made Lucky uncomfortable. Now and then, strung up as a warning, was a desiccated corpse. Gabriel eyed each one as they passed, confirming their species quietly. Castiel was relieved that none were human, but found himself unnerved by the obvious trauma the creatures must have endured.

Sam dropped back as they passed a relatively recent body. Flies still buzzed around it, the warm morning sun sending them into a rigorous frenzy.

Sam was apologetic.

"I know it probably looks bad. It wasn't Bobby's idea but it really does warn off some of the lesser monsters."

Gabriel looked away from the rotting corpse of what must have been a werewolf. The woman was half transformed even in death, white fangs still set in her rotting gums. One side was human, and her hand was hooked into a claw, frozen as if reaching for help. "Gotta wonder how you found  _that_ out."

Sam looked uncomfortable. "The town gets attacked now and then. We… we sometimes lose people. Good people."

He glanced at the werewolf briefly. "So we take back what we can."

Lucky slunk towards the werewolf, belly to the ground as he looked up at the corpse with soulful yellow eyes. Gabriel clicked his tongue towards the dog.

"Nothing you can do, bud," the archangel said sadly. "She's long gone."

Lucky whined, retreating back to the angels and leaning heavily against Castiel's legs. Sam watched him curiously.

"You talk to him a lot. It's almost like he understands you sometimes," he remarked.

Gabriel sighed. "You'd be surprised."

The dirt road finally swung around, leading into the heart of town. A large truck had been the entrance, a group of stern looking men coming out from behind the fence to push it aside for the group. The Winchesters seemed to know them too, and there was much smiling as they entered the town, though none of those courtesies were reserved for the angels. Castiel kept his eyes on the ground as they passed by the suspicious men, but Gabriel made a point to look at them all, his face split in a cheerful grin.

It really  _was_  a town. Castiel was in awe at what the humans had managed to accomplish with so few resources. Aging but intact buildings lined the main street, children running squealing between the throngs of people. Women sat on the porches, chatting as they washed clothes in buckets, now and then shouting towards the yelling children.

Crude signs were hung above the doors of some of the buildings. Castiel could see a hospital, a barber, general store and even the beginnings of a school. From one unmarked building several scantily clad women posed, shooting the group of men grins and winks as they moved by. Sam ducked his head shyly but Dean called out to several, prompting laughs and back pats from the men around him.

Towards the end of the buildings was an even rougher wooden house, a lopsided sign proclaiming it the Roadhouse. Another smaller wooden sign exclaimed  _home brewed beer and moonshine!_   in cheerful blue paint.

A small gaggle of curious onlookers trailed after them, whispering to one another as they eyed the two strange newcomers. Castiel felt uncomfortable, and moved closer to his brother. He hadn't mentioned the voice he had heard in the woods but now it suddenly seemed important.

"Gabri-"

'Well if you two 'ain't a sight for sore eyes! God _damn_!"

A figure pushed through the crowd of onlookers. A stout man, he was smiling as he strode forward, eyes crinkled with joy. A dirty baseball cap was on his head, his jaw sporting a bristling beard. He wrapped Dean in a bear hug, practically lifting the taller man off the ground. Dean laughed, rubbing his bruised sides ruefully as he was set down.

"Miss us old man?"

There was no doubt that this must be Bobby.

Bobby squinted at the Winchester shrewdly. "Oh I'll show you old, pup. Three months and no word? I should tan your hide, boy."

Sam was treated to a fierce hug as well. "And you! Stop yer growin'! You won't fit in the house at this rate, you damn giraffe."

Sam laughed, giving the older man a squeeze. "Missed you too, Bobby."

The man's attention then fell on the two angels, and Bobby snorted.

"Some… friends?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Strays more like."

Sam shot his brother a look. "That's actually something we have to talk about, Bobby. We were out at the scrapya-"

"So that was you two!" Bobby turned to Dean, pointing a finger. "You messed up my wards."

Dean looked affronted. "Why do I get the blame? Maybe Sam did it this time!"

"Sam has more brains than that."

Gabriel cleared his throat.

"This whole reunion thing is touching and everything, but Mr. Giraffe over there wasn't wrong. We need to talk."

Bobby turned to the archangel. "Ah keep yer dress on short stuff, we'll talk in good time."

The man dismissed the angels despite Gabriel's offended spluttering, turning back to the two Winchesters.

"I got some fence repairs to see too. You get your… _friends_ , settled and shown around. We'll talk when I'm done."

Dean nodded. "You got it."

Bobby spared the angels one last stern look, and then was gone; Rufus and the others following him.

Gabriel glared after him. "Short stuff?" he spluttered. "Well I… I… am rather offended right now."

Sam shook his head with a smile. "Don't take it personally. That's just uh… Bobby's charm."

Castiel shifted uncomfortably, noticing that there were still a large amount of people looking at them.

"He seemed very charming," he said politely, looking at Gabriel pointedly.  _Behave._ "And we are grateful you brought us here."

Dean made a disgusted noise, startling them all. The human muttered to himself, hoisting his duffle over one shoulder.

"I'm heading to Ellen's," he shot over his shoulder at Sam. "You babysit the pigeons. I've had enough."

Castiel winced as the human walked away. He knew Dean was annoyed at the angel's show of weakness in the forest. If Dean had not saved him…

Lucky pressed in close against the back of his legs, the dog almost bowling him over. The shepherd was nervous, tail tucked between his legs and belly close to the ground. He seemed as uncomfortable about the people watching them as Castiel was.

Gabriel, as usual, tackled it head on. He grinned and waved at a group of women assembled nearby.

"Next show is at 12, ladies!" he called, and the women all reddened, hurrying away. The archangel scowled after them, crossing his arms.

"I take it you don't get many new faces around here," he remarked.

Sam shook his head, motioning to the angels to follow. "No. And the ones we do get… well let's just say we don't have a great track record in attracting the right kind of people."

"Well I hope we change that pattern," Castiel said gravely as he trailed after. Gabriel laughed, giving him a shove that made him stumble. Sam smiled, hitching his duffle higher on his shoulder.

"Me too."

Castiel bowed his head briefly, ignoring Gabriel's juvenile teasing. "I wanted to thank you, Samuel. Without your belief in us the other day, Dean would not have agreed to bring us this far. I am grateful. And your actions in the forest… we owe you much."

Sam flushed in pleased embarrassment. "Oh uh… you're welcome."

"Yeah not that I'm complaining but… you took the whole angel thing suspiciously well." Gabriel squinted up at him.

They cleared the main street, and turned down a smaller road. It seemed to be mainly residential houses here. A man chopping firewood paused as they passed, his look wary.

Sam shrugged. "I figured it was about time something good came along, what with all the bad. I guess time will tell on that, huh  _short stuff_?" He shoved Gabriel with his shoulder, laughing.

Lucky watched them worriedly, the dog's gold eyes huge. Gabriel spluttered for a moment, blinking at the audacity of the mortal and Castiel worried his brother pushed too far for one day.

But then Gabriel smiled. He gave the human a shove back. "Not good to make fun of someone short enough to elbow you in the  _balls_ , Gigantor."

Sam winked. "You'd have to reach them first."

With a playful yell, Gabriel lunged at the human, grabbing him around the waist. An elderly couple sitting on the porch of their house glanced towards them as Sam yelped, stumbling back a few paces. Gabriel shoved his shoulder into Sam's stomach, trying to topple the taller man, but with a growl of his own, Sam locked his arms around Gabriel's neck, wrestling him to the side. Refusing to give up that easy, Gabriel kept his head down, and the two grappled trying to topple the other like a pair of mischievous puppies.

It reminded Castiel of the games the younger angels had played in heaven, and he looked away, heart clenching.

Lucky huffed, settling down on his haunches as he watched the two play. The houses around them were worn but well looked after, Castiel noted. The whole town was a testament to human perseverance. Such a resilient species, even the face of overwhelming odds.

Lost in his thoughts, Castiel missed the end of the wrestling match. Apparently a tie, the two finally separated, slapping each other on the back.

"You're strong for a little guy," Sam wheezed.

Gabriel rolled his shoulders. "Well that's what you get when you pick on one of heaven's finest, Giraffe-boy."

Sam laughed. "Come on, I'll show you Bobby's. Then I'm buying you a drink."

 

* * *

 

Bobby's house was set away from the rest of the town, near the open fields. The fence stretched around everything, keeping the town and its occupants safe from outside dangers. As they passed a small field, Castiel would see lines of vegetables and crops. It seemed the humans had managed to grow their own food as well.

A burst of barking made him jump, and Lucky bared his teeth in warning. Sam beckoned them forward into the yard.

"Don't worry about them. They're chained out back during the day."

Gabriel followed him, mounting the wooden steps of the porch warily. "And at night?"

Sam chuckled, pulling open the squeaking screen door. "Just don't go outside."

The minute Castiel set a foot inside the house, he felt welcomed. The wallpaper was peeling, a fine layer of dust coating much of the furniture, but the place felt like  _home._ It felt safe, and for the first time in days, Castiel allowed himself a brief moment of indulgence, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Gabriel moved into the study, nodding his head admiringly as he looked over the books.

"Bobby sure knows a thing or two," he squinted at a large cracked leather tome open on the desk. "There are some languages here I haven't seen in millennia."

Sam dropped his duffle down on the dusty couch. "Bobby is our unofficial mayor. He's kept this town alive and ticking for longer than I've been alive. Not bad for someone who used to be considered the town drunk."

Lucky seemed happier, moving around the study with his tail held high. Sam bent down to pet him and the dog smiled, tongue lolling.

"Oh now you like me again huh?" Sam scratched behind the dog's ear, and Lucky's leg spasmed.

Castiel moved into the room, eyes trailing across the dusty picture frames lined along one shelf.

"You stay here often?"

Sam straightened, blowing the hair out of his eyes. "We practically grew up here. When we weren't on the road with Dad that is."

Gabriel nodded wordlessly, giving Lucky a pat as he passed. "So what's the plan then? You dump us here on Bobby and go on your merry monster killing way?"

Sam sighed. "I don't know. Just… don't listen to everything Dean says. I want to help you guys, and we'll do whatever we can. But Dean, well…"

He shrugged helplessly, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. Castiel nodded slowly, his eyes trained on the picture of a man holding two boys.

"We understand."

The room lapsed into silence. The dogs still barked outside, and in the kitchen, a clock still ticked.

Gabriel clapped his hands.

"Well alrighty then, I think you promised me a drink."

 

* * *

 

The Roadhouse was a rowdy place, full of men and women alike. A cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air, and Castiel coughed as they entered, the rough wooden door nearly swinging shut on him. A piano was being played somewhere in the haze and a woman was singing, horribly off key.

A burst of cheering met their entrance, and Sam was immediately swept away by a group of hairy men. Castiel stood there at first awkwardly, trying to shift around when people moved past him. Gabriel was off, making a beeline towards the main bar area and flashing a smile at everyone. Dean was already there, and Castiel started towards him, apologizing at the people he was forced to push through. Dean was leaning up close to a young woman, a blonde who merely rolled her eyes at him, giving him a playful slap on the arm as she handed him a drink.

Sam shoved through the crowd, his hair in disarray. Spying Castiel, he grabbed the angel's arm, helping him get through the throng.

"Moonshine!" Sam explained, motioning towards Dean as he hollered over the din. "Ellen brews her own."

Gabriel was leaning against the bar and he shuffled to make room for them both as they cleared the crowd. Before Castiel could ask what exactly moonshine was, two drinks in smudged glasses were plopped down on the polished wood in front of him.

The woman behind the bar winked at them both.

"On the house, boys. 'Ain't often we get to see new faces, and handsome ones at that."

Castiel ducked his face, embarrassed, but Gabriel puffed up beside him, raising the glass to her.

"My thanks, beautiful lady."

Sam leaned over the bar to give the woman a kiss on the cheek. "And what about handsome old faces? Don't we get anything?"

She laughed, swatting at him with a dirty cloth. "Sam Winchester you get that silver tongue away from me! I swear I closed my eyes one day and suddenly you're a man."

She sighed wistfully, leaning her elbows on the bar. "Why, I remember when you were just a little pink thing with big eyes."

Dean leaned over to punch his brother's arm. "And now he's a giant. He can still do those damn puppy eyes though Ellen, careful!"

Ellen laughed. "Oh don't I know it. Alright then, one for you too. But only 'cause you're my favorite."

She slid another glass towards Sam, grabbing a bottle filled with cloudy liquid. Dean glowered playfully at her, lower lip jutting out in a pout.

"Hey! I'm the cuter one!" he complained.

The blonde girl from earlier swung by, an empty tray in her hands. "You wish! Sam was born with the cutie patootie gene." She ruffled Sam's overlong hair.

Dean sulked. "What am I, chopped liver?"

She laughed, leaning over to him the same treatment. "Sorry. You're the ruggedly good looking one, okay?"

Dean shot Sam a victorious smile.

Ellen dumped a bunch of glasses on the blonde's tray. "Now if you're finished flirtin' with these two knuckleheads, go serve some people Joanna-Beth!"

Jo rolled her eyes. "But  _Mom-"_

Ellen shooed her away. "Don't you Mom me, we got thirsty customers."

The blonde disappeared into the throng of people with a sigh.

Castiel glanced down at his drink, eyeing it cautiously. Gabriel had already shot back his, and was engaged in a conversation with a rather voluptuous brunette. Just as Sam was about to take a sip of his, he was grabbed from behind, and dragged off into another cheerful group. Castiel could hear Sam's laugh over the din and resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to figure out this moonshine on his own.

The glass was cool against his fingers, and he studiously ignored the other fingerprints and the print of lips on the rim. He gave the liquid a sniff, and nearly coughed, the bitter smell stinging his nose.

A chair scraped next to him, and Castiel realized Dean was glaring at him.

"Not good enough for your tastes?" he asked dryly.

Castiel swallowed nervously, dropping his eyes back to his glass and the swirling liquid in it. "I have never had alcohol," he admitted. His hand felt shaky, his skin thrumming with anxious energy. He could still hear the voice in his mind; see pale horrible faces swimming in his consciousness.

_Join us brother…_

Some of the anger leeched from Dean's face. The human sighed, scooting closer and kicking a chair out of the way.

"Like this." In one motion, Dean threw back his own drink, the long line of his throat working as he swallowed. He exhaled shakily, dropping his now empty glass onto the bar as he gave himself a shake. "Don't savor it, just swallow it straight down. The stuff tastes like gasoline but it does the trick."

Castiel copied what Dean had done, lifting the glass up to his lips. He paused for a moment, lips touching the cool glass, Dean watching him intently. Then, opening his mouth, Castiel tilted his head back and drank. He almost managed the whole glass before the sting made his throat close, and he started coughing. The glass clattered to the bar as he hacked and heaved, the men around them erupting into laughter.

But through the haze of watery eyes and coughing, Castiel could feel Dean pounding his back, one hand holding Castiel's bicep. When he looked blearily over at the human, Dean was smiling, wide and honest.

"Not bad for a first timer," Dean laughed. "Sam puked his first time."

Castiel managed a weak smile before another coughing fit had him bent over the bar. Though it seemed alcohol was not something he enjoyed, it seemed he had earned some respect from Dean.

And that made the ordeal worth it.

Almost.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretending that Star Wars came out before the world went to pot, and Dean got to see it. He then probably would tell it to Sam as a bedtime story at night because young Dean would have loved the whole good guys and bad guys space thing. THATS MY STORY AND I'M STICKING TO IT.

Bobby Singer had seen some shit.

He had been dealing with monsters under his bed long before they ever started frolicking through the cities. He knew the difference between a wendigo and a skinwalker, how to hack a harpy, banish a banshee, hell, he even knew bash a brownie.

But the knowledge had come at a price.

The world of the supernatural had forced its way into his life when he was a younger man. A happier man. In the judgmental eyes of the town, Bobby Singer lost his wife in a terrible accident fueled by alcohol. In reality…it was so much worse.

The townspeople avoided him. Spoke of him in hushed whispers and narrowed eyes. They said he was a drunk, the town joke to be told to kids as a cautionary tale.

_Don't drink kids, unless you turn out like that ol' Singer fellow. Blew his wife's brains all over the kitchen. Said she was a demon._

Bobby let them talk. Let them think he was nothing but a washed up old man broken by the years of booze and grief.

But behind closed doors, Bobby did more than just drink. He  _prepared_.

When the world eventually fell to ruin, people changed their mind right quick. It started as something distant at first, some sort of outbreak overseas and far removed from American living rooms. But it spread…  _they_ spread. People panicked at the shuddering brutal images flashing across their TV screens, the static screams that echoed over the radio.

Not Bobby.

When his neighbor, Mrs. Hatterman, was dragged across his front lawn and disemboweled by the rotting corpse of her once husband, Bobby didn't bat an eye. He just grabbed a shotgun and stomped outside to greet the new world.

And he never tired of saying hello.

The initial infection was the hardest. Thousands of terrified people fleeing the suddenly hell infested cities. Like rats abandoning a sinking ship, people lost their minds, all desperate to escape and uncaring of how they got there. It was like shooting fish in a barrel for the monsters, and the infection or whatever it was spread through them like wildfire.

The death toll was disastrous, and the reanimating dead swelled the ranks of the enemy.

Bobby was the one who saved the town. He set up the barricades, protected by wards and sigils. The years he had poured into studying the supernatural saved them all, and the first flood of monsters that came at the town didn't make it far. Every man, woman and child was educated in enough Latin, and stocked with enough silver that it didn't matter what tried to get through. They had close calls of course, where something made it through. Lost people.

But the town survived. Just.

The winters were hardest. The monsters started starving. And not just the hell beasts that Bobby still didn't know what they were called. Werewolves, vampires, skinwalkers, even things Bobby had only read about, came crawling out of the woodwork. The supernaturals were just as bad off as the humans, their food source so heavily depleted by the incoming tide of undead. They got desperate.

Dangerous.

When a scruffy man towing two young boys appeared outside their beaten up barricades, Bobby had welcomed him with open arms. John Winchester didn't seem to know much about the enemy, but what the man lacked in knowledge, he sure more than made up for with military dedication. Bobby may have laid the town foundations, but it was John Winchester who built the walls, who gave the people a sense of control.

They doubled their weapon stash after raiding a police station in a neighboring valley. John trained them all how to use them. There were whispers the man had been a marine or something once, but Bobby wouldn't have cared if the man was a freaking ballerina, as long as he kept doing what he was doing. The actual military had gone rogue, factions of soldiers setting up base camps all over the country. Bobby had heard some weird shit about those strongholds, things that made the  _monsters_  look nice in comparison. He was as ready to fight humans as he was monsters, and John gave them the knowledge they needed.

After they fought off a band of rough looking thugs who had threatened to take over the town, John got a glimmer in his eye. Said he wanted to go and help the people out there who didn't have a town or weapons. But Bobby knew that look. Had felt the same fire in his belly when he had been forced to kill his wife so many years ago.

John wanted revenge.

So Bobby let him go, fool that he was. As long as John came back, even if toting new supplies or weapons, Bobby never asked questions, never wanted to know what John had to do out there to get them. John had some demons on his back that could never be exorcised, and Bobby wasn't bout to stick his nose in another man's problem.

Only time he and John ever came to blows was over the boys.

Those two idiot boys. They stayed with Bobby when John didn't take them on hunts. Dean, who didn't even know how to laugh until he was close to 14, scraggly Sam who never  _stopped_ laughing. Bobby loved them like they were his own, worried like a broody hen when John took them away for weeks at a time.

The Winchesters may be grown men now, but that didn't change Bobby's attitude. They were  _his_ boys, and Bobby wasn't going to lose them like he had John, damn that stubborn son of a bitch to hell and back.

Bobby Singer had seen some shit.

He had seen the dead reanimate, monsters come crawling out of the dark corners of hell, watched a loving wife turned into a rabid beast. He had built a town, trained an army and tried his best to raise two boys.

But angels…actual warriors of God with feathers and fucking  _halos?_

That was a new one.

 

* * *

 

Bobby leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled against his chin. The study was quiet, Sam perched on a stack of dusty old newspapers, Dean leaning against the wall next to him with arms crossed. In front of Bobby's desk stood the angelic culprits, like two kids in trouble at school.

The shorter one, Gabriel, was fidgeting. He could barely stand still for two seconds before he'd start twitching, wringing his hands, cracking his knuckles or just tapping his palms against his thighs. The taller one, Castiel, frequently nudged his older brother, glaring the little bastard into stillness for a whole few seconds before it started all over again.

Bobby frowned thoughtfully, his chair squeaking as he leaned forward.

"So. Angels."

Sam shifted on the newspapers. "I know how it sounds Bobby but-"

Bobby made a sound of annoyance and Sam shut up immediately. "Do you have a harp and wings kid?" He jerked his chin towards the angels. "I was talkin' to these two feather heads."

Castiel tilted his head slightly. Old fashioned manners these angels had. Maybe they could teach the Winchesters a trick or two. "We are. If you need some sort of validation-"

"Noromi ol gohvs lg-chis- ge gassagen," Bobby interrupted him, eyes narrowing. "Zildar l ollog od olani geganza darbs ol."

The two looked startled, shooting glances at each other. Gabriel shrugged.

"Ol g-chis-ge tohcoth." The angel smiled, and he gave Bobby a wink. "Olani gohvs oiad lel."

Bobby nodded."Well alright then."

He pushed away from his desk, rising. Leaning over the piles of papers and books, he offered his hand.

"Welcome to Earth. The biggest shit hole you'll ever see."

Dean's mouth fell open. "That's it? Some gibberish and you believe them?"

Bobby shook hands with both angels, plopping himself back down in his seat as he shot a glare towards Dean.

"Hell boy, it 'aint just  _anyone_  who can speak Enochian. They're angel enough for me."

Gabriel snorted, giving Castiel a nudge with his shoulder. "Well we're not exactly setting your standards very high."

"So I've heard." Bobby tugged the visor of his cap. "Fancy sharin' with us what miracle has graced us worthy of your presence?"

Dean pushed away from the wall. "Bobby you can't be serious. They're not  _actual_ angels. A couple of confused guys maybe, but angels?"

Lucky raised his head with a whine. The dog was under the desk, and Bobby leant down to give the dog a scratch behind the ears. Lucky huffed happily, tail thumping the floorboards.

"You grew up in the world of the supernatural, Dean. Your daddy saw to that." Bobby looked over at the Winchester seriously. "He never tell you about the good guys too?"

Dean looked flustered, eyes over bright and jaw clenching. "There are no good guys."

Bobby sighed. "Not in John's damn world, no."

Sensing a fight, Sam leant forward, touching Dean's elbow gently. That seemed to get Dean to back down, and he went back to staring sullenly at the floor.

"You two said you'd tell us everything we needed to know," Sam said carefully, looking over at Gabriel. "I think it's time."

Castiel nodded, straightening his back. "Yes, I am…simply unsure of where to start. What uh...what do you know of the mahorela-avini?"

Bobby frowned, rubbing the underside of Lucky's jaw as the dog crooned happily. "You mean the daemor?"

Sam was leaning so far forward he nearly fell off his newspaper stack. "Daemor? Since when do we call them that?"

Bobby shrugged with a rueful smile. "One of the kids came up with it few weeks ago. It got hard shouting ' _there are those sons of bitches! Which ones? You know, the really fucked up ones!_ ' Naming 'em was easier."

Gabriel laughed. "I like daemor. Sounds like a glamor 80s rock band."

"In any case," Castiel stressed, shooting a look at his brother. "I do not think these… _daemor_ , are quite what you think."

Lucky's tail stopped thumping. Bobby's face lost all humor, and he leaned back heavily. "So educate me."

Castiel took a deep breath.

 

* * *

 

There had been a plan once. A divine plan that had been set in motion long before a young girl was told she was carrying the son of God. A day of reckoning that would come for mankind, a time where each must choose what destiny awaited them.

The ultimate battle of good versus evil, light versus dark, angel against demon.

Castiel knew this. Had prepared for it for all his life. He had trained and studied and longed for the day he would finally set foot on Earth and fight. When he would join his brothers and sisters and rain down the true power of heaven in a flood of holy fire.

But such dreams were far, far ahead of him. Glory and battle would have to wait, and the seraph took it upon himself to prepare as best he could. He trained hard, studied tactics and ancient battle plans. It was his life for many years, until Anael pointed out to him that he might as well have been in Raphael's garrison, for all his seriousness. Raphael was the military leader, Michael the studious and Gabriel…

Well. Gabriel's garrison was not known for their strict ways.

So, Castiel turned to books. Heaven's library was full of old tomes, pages upon pages of human history and what was to come. Balthazar had helped in the beginning, but then quickly grew bored. After destroying the scroll of Judicion so he could make paper airplanes to aim at Castiel's head, Balthazar was banned from the library. Castiel studied alone.

He read the prophecies. Some were small and insignificant, others large and meaningful. Castiel preferred the ones written about the righteous man and the boy king, men who one day would have to make the ultimate sacrifice, perhaps against their will. It was exciting to him, at the time. A righteous man full of holy fire to battle against a servant of Lucifer, what other highest honor and glory was there?

Castiel had been young.

Foolish.

His yearning for Earth grew. When he finished all the books and scrolls in the library, Castiel thought nothing of diving down deep into the catacombs where the oldest texts were kept. He spent years stooped low over crumbling pages, reading under the watchful gazes of the carved marble saints lining the corridors.

Frequently he would have to be dragged to the surface by an amused sibling, scolding him for forgetting himself, lost so completely in words on paper. Uriel frequently berated him for his foolishness, and for a while Castiel would resume his battle training.

But he always returned.

It was there, in a cool chamber of the catacombs that Castiel felt the first tremble.

A gentle quake at first, it grew until the carved statues of the saints started to crack and crumble. It felt like heaven itself was shifting, and Castiel had been disquieted. Yet his siblings took no notice, ignoring the tremors when they happened, looking over the cracks that began to form on the marble floors.

Perhaps Castiel could have overlooked it as well. Perhaps he could have simply joined his brothers and sisters in their ignorance, and gone on trusting in Michael, trusting that was to be, was to be.

But then the books changed.

The words Castiel had spent so long pouring over, the texts he had held so lovingly began changing. The books of the past seem unchanged, but those that held the  _future…_ words were scrambled, confused. When Castiel hurried into the catacombs to check the scrolls of prophecy they felt like oil in his hands, slick and unclean. The words he could pick out were dark and blasphemous, a mockery of what he had read before.

The divine plan had been changed.

 _No_ , Castiel had thought as he stood on the steps and yelled at his siblings to see what was happening, that something was wrong with heaven Herself.  _It was corrupted._

* * *

 

The only sound in the silent library was Lucky's nervous whine. Bobby took his cap off, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

"Well that's some shit for sure. You're sayin' that all o' this, the daemor…wasn't  _supposed_ to happen?"

Dean snorted,giving Sam a nudge with his knee. "I could have told him that."

Sam swatted his brother away. "So you think the daemor did that? Changed the course of history or something?"

Castiel shook is head. "No. I believe the daemor are but a symptom of the change, not the source."

Lucky slunk from beneath the desk. Despite Sam's half hearted protests, the shepherd nudged his way between the Winchester's knees, hiding his face in the folds of Sam's shirt.

Gabriel watched the dog, eyes sad. "Things were meant to be different. When the… daemor started appearing, most of us just thought that was what was supposed to happen. In heaven see we uh…we don't question things a whole lot."

"And look what happened." Dean took a step forward, eyes angry. "So you're saying this is all heaven's fault, and we're the ones who suffer. Awesome!"

Castiel shook his head, frustrated. "No, Dean. I do not know who or what could have changed the course of destiny. There are only a few capable of such power, and Michael could not have done such a thing alo-"

"Lucifer," Gabriel said quietly."We think Lucifer has something to do with this."

Dean stared at them both, expression slack. "Lucifer as in-"

"The devil." Sam's eyes were huge, Lucky almost fully in his lap now. "Oh my God this is real isn't it? You're really talking about…about the  _devil_ doing this!"

Bobby didn't look as surprised. "Who else?The daemor look hellish enough to me. They had to come from somewhere."

" _No._ "

All eyes turned to Dean. He was practically shaking, hands balled into fists at his side.

Castiel took a step forward. "Dean I know this seems-"

"You don't know  _anything_!" Dean barked. "This is all bullshit. The devil? Michael? Next thing you'll be telling me that we're the fucking 'Chosen Ones' who are the only ones who can bring balance to the force or some shit."

Castiel's crestfallen expression said it all.

Gabriel stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I think Sam would be Luke. Mr. Butthurt over there can be Han and Bobby's Chewie."

Castiel didn't even glance at his brother. He kept his eyes on Dean, pleading with him to understand."When I was cast out, I knew the only way to find answers was to find the ones the original prophecies foretold."

The angel took a shuddering breath. " _You_  are the righteous man, Dean. The daemor have not changed that. I came to Earth to find  _you._ "

For a moment, Dean just stood there and blinked. Sam was looking between his brother and Castiel worriedly, Lucky in his arms. Bobby slowly rose from his chair, one hand stretching towards Dean.

"Don't do somethin' you'll regret, boy," he said lowly. "And don't you dare spill blood on my carpet."

Dean swallowed hard. He took a step forward, getting up close to the angel. Castiel stood his ground, even as Dean got in his face, green eyes promising violence.

"I want you gone." Dean's voice was thick, shaking with barely concealed anger. "I want you two out of my sight and out of this town before I do something I really want to."

Castiel gazed back at him calmly. "I cannot do that. I came here to help, to save lives."

"Then go do it somewhere  _else_ ," Dean snarled, giving Castiel's shoulder a shove. "We were doing just fine without you and we'll  _do_ fine without you."

Gabriel cleared throat, drawing their attention. The archangel stood in front of the wall where Bobby had taped up a huge map of the area, and was studying the red lines and circles marring the crinkled paper.

"I don't think that statement will hold true for much longer. Right Bobby?"

The older man nodded tiredly, slumping back into his chair."They're on the move. We've had sightings of three packs in the past couple o' months."

"So?" Dean stepped away from Castiel, giving the angel a distrustful glare. "They've always moved in groups."

Bobby snorted. "Yeah. _Moved_. They aren't just totterin' around mindlessly anymore. They're…organizing. Huntin'."

Sam bit his lip worriedly. "They disarmed our wards. It's like they're getting smarter."

Bobby stooped down to open a drawer in his desk. Straightening, he set a half empty bottle of whiskey on the table. "Got a radio in two weeks ago from Woodbury. Nearest settlement to us. Word is, they're even startin' to amass in hordes. Huge packs of the bastards that can wipe out a city in a night. Fences don't keep them out , wards are failing…"

He took a long swig from the bottle. "Somethin' is coming."

"But… why?" Sam asked, shifting Lucky on his lap. "Why now?"

Gabriel glanced over at him. "The beauty of life, Sam. They're evolving. Learning."

He turned, crossing his arms as he glared sternly at Dean. "And like it or not, we're here. You want the daemor gone? We're your best shot."

Dean made a sound of disgust, turning away. "Whatever. I'm going to Ellen's and getting drunk. That's the only goddamn thing that makes sense right now."

He stormed past Castiel, knocking his shoulder deliberately. "And Bobby someone needs to go out and ge-"

"Already sent a crew to get your damn car," Bobby grumbled, taking another drink. "Though Lord knows you don't deserve it ya idjit."

Dean muttered under his breath, tugging the front door open and disappearing in a furious flurry of bootsteps.

In the terse silence that followed, Sam huffed nervously.

"Guess I should charge up my lightsaber huh?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed something fluffy after this week T_T so some brother fun. Next chapter Dean angst ho! Happy Easter! Or April Fool's, whatever your time zone may be :D

Castiel stared up at the ceiling, hands folded over his belly. A devil's trap painted in black loomed over him, and he traced its contours as he listened to the raised voices coming from above.

Dean had apparently returned from his evening of drinking.

Gabriel was sitting cross legged beside him, chin in his hand as he looked around the room.

"Bobby sure knows his stuff," he remarked. "A panic basement? _Genius._ "

Castiel blinked as the shouting upstairs grew louder. "Bobby certainly knows what he is doing."

The basement was cool, musty to his nose.  Bobby had stocked it with some spare furniture; a desk was shoved against one wall, a rack of weapons along the other. A low table creaked in the corner, bending alarmingly at the amount of books stacked on top of it. Bobby had rolled two sleeping bags over the carpet in the middle of the room for the angels. It wasn't the most comfortable, but it would do.

Gabriel cast his eyes to the ceiling, sighing. "Noisy, isn't he?"

Castiel picked a loose thread on his borrowed jeans. "Dean is…opinionated."

Gabriel flopped back onto his sleeping bag. Castiel tried not to notice the plume of dust that rose with the motion, or the sudden itching in his nose.

"You can say that again." Gabriel tapped a tuneless beat against his ribs with his fingers. "I think Bobby knows more than he's letting on though. He didn't even look shocked when we said we were angels. And his Enochian? I know that accent from somewhere."

"Perhaps."

The voices above continued their shouting. Even the devil's trap seemed to be cringing, it's outline expanding and retracting the longer Castiel stared at it.

Gabriel gave an experimental wiggle, the sleeping bag rustling beneath him. "Still think this was all worth it, little brother?"  Something slammed upstairs. "That _he's_ worth it?"

Castiel turned his head to look Gabriel in the eye. "If we can find a way to stop the daemor, anything is worth it. Even Dean's wrath."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. In his borrowed shirt and torn jeans, Gabriel looked more comfortable being human than Castiel could ever be. "You're willing to do whatever it takes, aren't you?"

The archangel rolled onto his side, propping his head on one hand. Despite the smile on his face, his gold eyes were serious. "Why are they worth so much to you, kiddo? They've not exactly been the most hospitable."

Castiel turned his face back to the ceiling. "All my life I prepared for the moment I would walk amongst man," he said quietly.  "I…it is not as I imagined it but…I would not trade it for anything."

Gabriel snorted. "You poor sorry bastard. If you think _this_ is amazing I should have shown you Vegas before everything went to shit."

He yelped as Castiel rolled over to give him a half-hearted shove. "You wouldn't understand, Gabriel. You've been to Earth before!"

Gabriel chuckled, grabbing at Castiel's arm before he could poke him. "Yeah, with a garrison. To do _battle._ Wasn't exactly a vacation."

Castiel's smile slipped. _The second war of heaven_. Shortly after Lucifer fell the pagan gods declared heaven weak, and threatened to overturn the balance of the world. Many a brother and sister had been lost.

Again. Would heaven ever tire of war?

"You have more experience than me," he finally said. "Of that, I envy you."

He squawked as Gabriel released him, unceremoniously choosing to steam roller him into submission.

"And beauty!" Gabriel quipped, making sure to elbow Castiel in the stomach on his second roll over his brother. "Can't forget that."

With a grin, Castiel grabbed a handful of his brother's toffee blonde hair. "Is that so? I wonder how handsome the humans would find you, _bald_?"

Gabriel thrashed in mock horror, jabbing his fingers into Castiel's belly in retaliation. "If I go down, you're coming with me!"

His words were too close to the truth. Castiel's fingers went slack, and Gabriel realized his mistake. He propped himself up on his elbows, eyes wide and hair disheveled.

"I uh…poor choice of words."

Castiel sighed, letting his arms fall to the floor. "What is happening, Gabriel? Why did Michael…"

The shouting had stopped upstairs. The basement seemed too quiet, the devil's trap glaring down at them from above. Gabriel pressed closer, tangling his legs with Castiel's.

"I don't know," the archangel admitted quietly, tightening his arms around Castiel's waist. "I thought he and Raphael were just being dicks as per usual but…I think they did something. Something bad. And you were too close to finding out what."

The cold air seemed to bite at him, and Castiel shivered, blinking his dry eyes. "Something that led to those monsters."

Unbidden, a voice curled in his mind, slick and treacherous.

_Brother._

"Gabriel," he started, squirming slightly as Gabriel rubbed his cheek against a ticklish patch of skin. "In the woods-"

"She's an ugly one, that's for sure," Gabriel huffed. "And foul mouthed. Did you hear what she called me that first time? The nerve of some monsters."

Castiel swallowed nervously, his mouth too dry. "Did you…did you hear her speak? In the woods?"

Gabriel raised his head, frowning up at his brother. "No. I just kinda figured they wanted to kill us, what with all the snarling and, well, attempted _killing._ "

Castiel avoided his brother's eyes. "She…I heard…something."

"Something?" Gabriel arched an eyebrow. "Like… a high pitched screaming? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that was Sammy boy."

" _Hey_!"

The voice made them both jump. Gabriel rolled off Castiel, sitting up hurriedly. "Well I mean, maybe it was a manly scream?"

Sam stood in the doorway, arms crossed. Lucky trotted past his legs, mouth open and tongue lolling as he flopped down on Castiel much like Gabriel had done.

"I think all the screaming came from you, short stuff," Sam grinned, pushing away from the door. "I came to see if you were all settled in okay."

Castiel rubbed Lucky's ears, exhaling forcefully as the dog settled more heavily on his chest. "We are… _ah_ …comfortable."

"I can see that." Sam paused at the foot of their sleeping bags, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm uh…sorry about the noise."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "You mean the entertainment? Your brother has a pair of lungs on him."

Sam looked embarrassed, his cheeks flushing as red as his plaid shirt. "He's just drunk. Ignore him, that's pretty much what I do."

"No." Castiel struggled to sit up, despite Lucky's whined protests. "Dean has a right to mistrust us, and I would not begrudge him that. I only hope we can prove our worth to him."

Sam smiled sadly at him. "Angels. Quick to forgive huh?

Gabriel laughed loudly. "Only the best of us. You should meet my sister. Raphael can hold a grudge for _eternity._ "

 

* * *

 

For once, Castiel slept. It was an uneasy rest however, full of dark shapes and pale eyes, shadows that grabbed at his arms and legs as he tried to escape them. A voice constantly whispered to him, but it was too far away to make out the words.

The sun was barely up when he awoke, streaming in through the small window weakly. Gabriel was still asleep as Castiel crept by. Bobby had left a pile of old clothes by the door, and Castiel chose a pair of ratty dirt smudged jeans. He wondered briefly if he should ask for undergarments later, but decided he didn't quite mind the light scrape of fabric against his upper thighs. It was a reminder that he was close to human now, something he should not forget.

The basement steps creaked as he stepped on them, the bare pads of his feet brushing along the rough wood. The house was still, the others apparently still asleep. Castiel padded into the kitchen, trailing his hand lightly along the peeling wallpaper. The house's very foundations seemed to hum back at him, content and peaceful.

A bark drew his attention to the window, and curiously, Castiel leaned over the sink, pulling away the thin curtains.

Beyond the yard, stood Dean.

He was barefoot like Castiel, hands in his pockets as he hunched over something. Bobby's apparently vicious dogs milled around his feet; a menagerie of mutts and mongrels. In the morning mist and the rising sun, Dean's outline seemed to faintly glow.

“He out there again?”

Bobby lumbered into the kitchen, a coffee mug in one hand as he rubbed his eye with the other. Castiel pulled away from the window guiltily.

"He is."

Bobby snorted, going to the sink. The town was lucky enough to still have running water and electricity, though both were rationed. Castiel was unclear as to the mechanics, but he had heard Sam mention something about generators when talking to Gabriel.

"Surprised the dogs haven't eaten him." Grabbing a clear glass pot, Bobby filled it with water. "They always had more bark than bite though."

The man looked less intimidating out of his work clothes and hat. Castiel noted the silver hairs peppered through Bobby's hair and along his jaw, suddenly sad. The man had no doubt aged more than he should have. Like they all had.

“Coffee?"

Castiel stared perplexedly at the tin of brown powder the man offered him. "Um…no, thank you."

Bobby shrugged, spooning some of the powder into his own mug. "Suit yourself."

The pot of water was put on the small stove, a tiny flickering flame warming it. It gurgled happily as Castiel stole another look out the window.

"What is it he's looking at?" he asked, noting Dean's bowed head. It almost looked like the human was praying.

Bobby pulled aside the curtain, glaring out into the yard much more confidently than Castiel had.

“John,” he said curtly. “Only body they ever allowed buried here.”

Castiel started. Sam had explained how the townsfolk preferred to burn their dead, just in case they should ever rise again. “The body was not burned?”

Bobby shrugged. “Dean wouldn’t have it. And after everythin' John did for this town…we owed 'im.”

The water whistled, and Bobby turned away to make his coffee. Outside, Dean shifted from foot to foot, breath showing in the cool morning air. Castiel could now see the roughly hewn wooden cross in front of him; practically two sticks lashed together and driven into the dry ground.

Castiel lowered his eyes respectfully. “How did he pass away?”

The spoon clinked loudly against the mug's sides as Bobby stirred the brown sludge in his cup. He took a tentative sip, making a face. “Like they all do. In the end, John Winchester was just a man.”

Bobby set his mug down on the small table in the center of the kitchen, sinking into a rickety chair. He motioned for Castiel to join him.

"Now listen close feathers, 'cause I'll likely only say this once."

Castiel obeyed, pulling the chair away from the table. It scraped along the yellowed linoleum floor, but Bobby didn't protest. He took a deep gulp of coffee as Castiel settled down.

"This town was built with blood. With sweat and tears we built the damn walls and roofs, but blood is the mortar, the hot sticky thing that keeps this sorry settlement together." The mug made a dull sound against the wooden table as he set it down. "We lost folks. Good people that I would sell my soul for, but we lost 'em. Sacrifices for the greater good and all that shit."

Castiel dared not ask what sort of sacrifices. He remembered the desiccated corpses along the fence and wondered if they had been one.

Bobby pointed at him. "But it’s the people in it, the _real_ people walkin’ 'round and _breathin'_ that I care 'bout. You help me keep 'em that way and we’ll be best friends.”

He paused and glanced towards the window. “But if you don’t…if I have to put a marker beside John’s with a son’s name on it…"

He picked up the mug, taking a long sip. When he set it down again, Bobby's eyes were hard and glittering.

"Angel or not, I will destroy you."

Castiel did not doubt his words. The angel nodded seriously.

"I understand."

"Good!" Bobby leaned back in his chair, wincing as his back cracked. "With that outta the way, maybe we can start comin' up with a battleplan."

Castiel looked at him quizzically. "A…battleplan?"

Bobby chortled into his coffee. "Well you don't wanna sit 'round here twiddlin' your thumbs now, do ya? Daemor are getting to be a pain in my rear end. Gimmie a solution."

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. "Well there are certain wards, perhaps rituals we can assist with. My knowledge is fairly limited but perhaps Gab-"

The front door slammed. Castiel stiffened as Dean walked into the kitchen, half expecting the human to yell at him to leave.

Instead, Dean merely glanced over at him, giving Bobby a pat on the shoulder. "Any coffee?"

Bobby jerked his head towards the stove. "Boiled some water, coffee 's on the side."

Dean wrinkled his nose as he picked up the carton. "This instant stuff? Last time I tried to make a cup, a maggot fell out."

"Extra protein, stop your bellyachin'."

Castiel was bewildered. Dean had been so angry last night but now-

Dean offered the carton, giving it a shake. "How 'bout you, Clarence? Coffee?"

"My name is Castiel," he managed nervously. "But I suppose I could try some."

_It would be best to attempt to appease Dean in any way possible._

Dean rolled his eyes, grabbing another mug from the cupboard. "Nevermind. I forgot how alien you _angels_ are."

There was a clatter, and Gabriel shuffled into the kitchen. His hair was disheveled, the plaid shirt he had picked from the pile so large it swamped him. The neck gaped, and Gabriel's bare shoulder peeked through.

"At least we don't have tentacles or something," the archangel quipped, wiggling his fingers towards Dean. "I'd find that too distracting I think."

Castiel smiled warmly at his brother. "You find most things distracting."

Gabriel swatted at him, digging his fingers into Castiel's wild dark hair playfully. "Ha ha, widdle brudder."

Dean's face was unreadable as he handed Castiel the steaming mug, but the anger he had displayed before seemed absent now. Hopefully for good. Castiel accepted the drink with a smile. A second was offered to Gabriel, and after eyeing the peace offering shrewdly while asking if it was poisoned, he slurped it down loudly.

By the time Sam joined them all, a second pot had been boiled and drunk. A humble breakfast of tinned fruits and dried jerky was eaten, and the kitchen cleaned. Bobby corralled the dogs safely back in their kennel, just as the town seemed to come to life.

Castiel stood on the porch, squinting against the bright sun as he watched the town. "What is it you do, Bobby?"

The man chuckled, fastening a toolbelt of sorts around his middle. "Oh a bit-a-this, a bit-o-that."

He glanced back into the house, where Gabriel was loudly complaining about the giant-sized clothes he was forced to wear. Sam retorted something about midgets and the sounds of a scuffle came from the study.

"Most o' the time I feel like a damn babysitter," Bobby muttered. "But today I just happen to be a handyman. Generators need checkin',water gotta be piped…the fun ever ends 'round here."

Castiel nodded. "May I assist in any way?"

Bobby smiled, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Much obliged, but for the time bein' it's safer if you stick close to the house. This town 'aint much keen on visitors and…well, how 'bout we keep the whole angel thing on the down low?"

Castiel could only manage a bewildered nod."As you…wish."

Bobby's boots clattered loudly down the porch steps, and round the back of the house the dogs started barking. "If you're that bored, ask Dean to take you to the fence. That damn thing always needs repairs."

Castiel watched him stride away, dirt clouds rising at his feet. Bobby's house was set away from the town, but Castiel could see the shapes of people emerging from the buildings, waving and calling to each other. Reluctantly, he withdrew inside, searching out the clattering in the study.

Lucky rose to greet him as he entered, licking Castiel's offered hand. Gabriel stood by the window, arms spread sullenly. Sam crouched beside him, trying to tuck the huge folds of the shirt into Gabriel's sides, pinning them as he went. He was chuckling.

"You're like a little kid," he got out around the pins between his lips. "You even pout like one."

Gabriel's scowl deepened. "You're enjoying this. He's _enjoying_ this, Castiel! Torturing me with pins!"

Castiel hid his smile. "It is only practical, Gabriel. I'm sure Samuel is very…skilled with sewing."

On cue, Gabriel yelped. Sam grinned happily, readjusting the fold. "Sorry."

"No you're not," Gabriel growled. "But you will be."

Sam clucked his tongue. "Ah, ah little one," he chided, shooting a wink towards Castiel. "Grumpy angels don't get any dessert."

Gabriel quivered with indignation. "I am an _archangel_! I've slain demons bigger and badder than you, Winchester!"

Sam arched an eyebrow, looking at Castiel. "Do archangel's _whine_ this much in heaven?"

"Oh even more so," Castiel said sadly,ignoring Gabriel's spluttering. "They are the worst."

Gabriel puffed himself up, earning himself another poke with the needle. "When I tell my life story to the scribes, I will _not_ be merciful. You all suck." He dropped one arm to point viciously at Sam. "I'm making you a hunchback. A hideous, hideous hunchback. With a limp."

 "Sounds about right."

All three turned, Castiel straightening as he spotted Dean by the door. The elder Winchester was smirking, looking at his brother.

"Maybe a hump will make him look more human, instead of the sasquatch we know he is," Dean said, stooping to pet Lucky as he bounded over.

Sam smiled, the pins glittering. "Whatever. Gabriel said he's making you a girl."

Gabriel shrugged one shoulder. "I figured why let that pretty face go to waste? You'll be known as Deanna the beautiful, but bitchy."

Castiel winced, expecting Dean to dislike the idea. Surprisingly, the man just nodded.

"Do I get massive boobs?"

Gabriel winked. "The biggest."

He yelped as another pin found his soft skin, turning on Sam. Shaking his head at the bickering duo, Dean turned away. He nodded towards Castiel, eyes flinty.

"Come on," he said gruffly. "Bobby said the fence needed repair, and two pair of hands are better than one."

Castiel tried to catch Gabriel's eye as he followed Dean out of the study, but his brother was seemingly content bickering. Wonderful, Castiel was on his own.

With Dean.

Heaven help him.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took me so long. A lot of bad stuff has been going down in my personal life and I didn't feel like writing. But I'm trying to ease back into it, a bit at a time. Thank you guys for your lovely comments, I will keep writing, I will!

* * *

 

Dean frowned, running the pad of his thumb along the jagged corner of one of the gaping holes. The old chain fence had rusted through, the links bent and misshapen. The years had been hard on it, and the wear showed. Something had forced it's way inside at one point, tearing a sizeable hole that threatened the integrity of the whole fence. The grass was overgrown at it's base, the long dry tendrils winding their way along the rusty posts. Small animals scurried in front of their boots, a bird squawking in alarm.

Dean exhaled unhappily, kicking the moldy wooden planks by his feet. Materials were so low in town that he had resorted to scrounging up scraps from sheds and basements. A plank of splintering moldy wood wouldn't stop an enraged wendigo, hell, it probably wouldn't stop an angry  _moth._

The angel wasn't much help. Castiel stood awkwardly beside Dean, nervous and twitchy like a stray expecting a boot to the face. Dean almost felt a little guilty. In his arms the angel juggled a menagerie of tools, nails and screws…everything but what they actually  _needed._  There were no batteries for drills, all gas and fuel went towards the generators, and power tools were a thing of the past. Trying to patch up the fence with what meager supplies they had was like trying to put a band-aid on a missing limb; pointless and time wasting, considering they were probably going to bleed out anyways.

Dean shot Castiel a glare, and the angel cringed even farther away from him. Jesus, some angel he was, the idiot had almost  _drowned_ in the woods and now? Now he was looking at Dean like he was a rabid dog about to bite.

Why that made him so mad, Dean wasn't willing to say.

He slapped his hand against the fence, the metal links shivering in response. "Gotta patch it up. I'm surprised Bobby left it this long."

Castiel nodded, still eyeing him cautiously. "It seems it is in dire need of it."

Dean scowled at him. "You don't say?"

Castiel flinched as if he had been hit. "I merely meant…it was no doubt overlooked because this area is not used. An…oversight."

Dean grunted, reaching over to grab a hammer from Castiel's arms. "No excuse."

Man, when did he turn into such a dick? There was a time Dean had thought himself pretty easy-going. It wasn't Castiel's fault the fence was broken, or the world was fucked, or people were dead.

 _Or was it?_  A tiny voice asked.

Dean cleared his throat, stooping down to grab one of the planks. It was long and heavy, and Dean only managed to pull up one end. He tried to ignore how the moist wood crumbled in his hands. "We make mistakes and overlook shit? People die."

Castiel nodded, setting his armful of tools on the ground with a loud clatter. He plucked a tin can full of nails out of the stack.

"I understand." The nails clinked. "Fortifying the town is important and should be taken seriously."

Dean pushed the side of the plank up, trying to find a good position. The steel poles keeping the fence in the ground had been changed to wooden ones a year or two ago, he could nail the plank to the posts to block up the hole, but it wouldn't hold forever. He'd have to talk to Bobby about getting some more metal, maybe scrounge it from the scrapyard-

The other side of the plank lifted. Castiel hoisted the old wood up, helping Dean to bear the weight. The can of nails was tucked under his arm, several held loosely between his fingers.

"I want to help," the angel said firmly, noticing Dean's surprised look. "That is what I'm here to do, and if you would give me the opportunity, I will not disappoint you."

Dean jerked his gaze back to the plank in front of him, making a noncommittal grunt.

Between the two of them, the plank was hoisted into position. The fence bowed slightly under the extra weight, but held. Castiel passed the nails to him, and Dean hammered each into place.

 _Maybe Bobby was right,_  he thought ruefully. _We need them as much as they need us._

He wasn't exactly proud of how he handled last night. After Ellen's, Dean had been sure he had an airtight argument as to why it was a  _horrible_ idea to keep two potentially crazy disillusioned people around. Surely Bobby would listen to his reasoning, being a cynical son of a bitch tired of the world like him.

But there was one tiny detail Dean had overlooked. Well, one  _giant_  detail really. With long lanky legs and a head full of hair that would make a Wookie jealous.

Sam, damn him. Sam and his rosy 'let's be friends' attitude. Sam and his stupid angel worship. Sam, Sam, Sam. Somehow the kid had even convinced Bobby of his "it's destiny" bullshit explanation. Bobby! The most realistic grumpy old man the world had seen, actually bought the whole angel story. Seriously?

If  _Bobby_ believed it then…well…

If angels were real, that had to mean that heaven was real. If heaven was real, then the devil was real. If the devil was real that meant God was real. And if  _God_  was real…

Well, fuck. Dean didn't even know what that meant.

The sun beat down on the two men as they struggled to get the hole covered and the smaller ones fixed. Surprisingly Castiel was very helpful, his longer fingers more adept at helping link the smaller holes back together. The angel had rolled his borrowed shirt sleeves up to his elbow, displaying slim and well muscled forearms. Dean was almost impressed. Then he remembered the feeling of trying to grab said forearms beneath freezing black water and his mood soured again.

Castiel finished the hole, leaning back to survey his work proudly. "I must admit this physical labor is quite…satisfying."

Dean snorted. "I bet. Not bad, feathers."

"Thank you, Dean."

He couldn't look at those damn eyes. Who had eyes like that? All…blue and pretty and shit.

Dean tested the plank again, keeping his eyes on the wood. "Yeah well don't get all weird on me. You can handle a fence, whoopee."

"No I…I meant about before. In the woods."

Dean tensed. Castiel's boots scuffed the dirt like a kid, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I understand that you don't like me very much. I'm sure in your position, I would be skeptical as well. But that you would still come to my aid despite your hatred…" The angel dropped his hands back to his side. "Thank you. For…saving me."

Something dark bubbled in Dean's gut. He turned, jabbing a finger viciously into Castiel's chest. "You shouldn't  _need_ saving! You're a fucking angel! And some skanky ass dead bitch almost snuffed you out in a  _goddamn puddle!_ "

Castiel accepted his anger without a twitch."You're right. I am a poor excuse for the angel I once was. And I'm sorry that I-"

"Stop that!" Dean snapped. Castiel stared at him with wide eyes. Dean gave a frustrated growl, turning back to the fence.

"Just…stop," he muttered."You owe me one, that's all. Nothing more."

Castiel gave a tight nod, dropping his gaze to the ground. They stood in tense silence, listening to the birds in the distance. Dean sighed, shrugging one shoulder.

"And look I don't…okay so we're not best buds or anything but…I don't hate you, Cas. You're not bad, for a crazy dude."

The grasses rustled slightly and the sun continued to beat down.

"You're not bad for a human, yourself." Castiel finally quietly replied.

The nickname Dean blurted went unnoticed and Dean was grateful. He didn't want to look into why he was still willing to even talk to this weirdo, let alone rescue the idiot from death and hand out nicknames.

He wiped the back of his hand against his forehead. "Hey uh…you wanna go get a drink? I owe Ellen an apology first, but I'd say we deserve a reward for bustin' our asses out here."

Dean almost smiled at the slight scrunch of the nose Castiel gave him. But the angel still nodded, apparently willing to try out alcohol again despite his last experience.

"I would like that very much."

 

* * *

 

Gabriel squinted up at the ceiling, hiking up his legs and pretending to walk along the ceiling.

_Urgh I'm so bored._

Lucky sprawled by his head, the dog huffing gusts of hot air against Gabriel's hair. Gabriel's newly altered shirt was already dusty, slightly frayed where one of Sam's stitches had come undone.

There was an unhappy sigh from the desk. "Do you ever stop moving?"

Gabriel rolled over onto his stomach, giving Lucky a loud kiss on the head. "Nope. Used to drive my siblings crazy."

"I can see why." Sam was seated at Bobby's desk, piles of books heaped in front of him. He had his chin in his hand, eyes already slightly red from trying to read the tiny scrawled writing of the texts.

Gabriel got to his feet, patting himself down, briefly admiring his shirt. "You know, flannel wouldn't have been my first choice, but man…I make it look good."

Sam lifted his head to glare half-heartedly at him. "You know, when you said you'd help me do some research, I assumed you'd actually  _help_."

Gabriel chuckled. "Oh Sammy boy, I don't need books to research." He tapped his forehead. "It's all up here!"

Sam groaned, going back to his book. "Well we're definitely screwed then."

Gabriel stuck his tongue out at the human childishly, earning himself a scolding growl from Lucky. He craned his head to see what Sam was reading, but found himself uninterested in the dusty writings of some dead monk.

Instead, he perched himself on one edge of the desk, looking around the study curiously. Gabriel considered himself one of the more liberal-minded angels, but he had never imagined that humans could be so well informed on the world of the supernatural. Though the daemor had probably helped with that.

Gabriel shuddered. He may treat life as a joke most of the time, but the daemor were a real concern. There was something…wrong about them. Something familiar. Gabriel was too afraid to examine why.

"So..do you think your brother has murdered my brother yet?"

Sam looked up from his book. "Dean may be a lot of things, but a murderer he isn't."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Well okay, slightly maimed or mauled then. Should I worry?"

"No," the book shut in a cloud of dust. "I actually think Dean likes him a little."

Gabriel laughed. "Seriously? Am I going to have to give him the big brother speech about respecting my baby brother and getting him home before midnight?"

Sam leaned over to give him a light shove."Ha ha. You can joke, but I think it's cool. Dean doesn't have a lot of friends. It would be…nice if he made Castiel one."

"Oh Sammy, you're breaking my heart." Gabriel wiped away an imaginary tear. "I better start picking out doilies and a dress for the wedding."

As Sam puffed himself up to deliver another scolding, something crackled to life upstairs, a tinny voice scratching through the static.

_"He…llo? Sing..er?"_

Gabriel frowned up at the ceiling. "What the hell is that?"

Sam was already up and moving towards the stairs. "Sounds like a radio. I thought we had moved all of them to the town hall."

They followed the static up into Bobby's room. Gabriel glanced around the sparse room, noting the dusty photo frames along the dresser. A pretty woman smiled out of a few, two small boys in the others. Sam got down on all fours, searching under the bed. With a louder crackle, he brought out a beat up looking transceiver, setting it on the bed.

Sam frowned down at it perplexedly, still kneeling on the floor. "I didn't know Bobby had one of these. Why is it here?"

Gabriel peered over his shoulder. "Maybe it has a direct link to sexy singles in your area."

They jumped as the voice cracked through the static again. " _Sh...it, Bobby you...here?"_

Hurriedly, Sam unhooked the mouthpiece. Holding up to his mouth, he clicked the on button. "Hello? Repeat your message, over."

There was a brief static silence. Sam fiddled with one of the knobs, and when the voice returned it was clearer. It was hard to make out much from it, but it was definitely a man.

" _And just who the hell is this? Where's Bobby?"_

Sam shot a look at Gabriel, who just shrugged at him. Sam sighed, but dutifully replied.

"This is Sam Winchester. Bobby isn't here right now uh…can I take message? Over."

" _What are you, a fucking messaging service? Get me Bobby. And do it sharpish Winchester, I'm kind of in a hurry."_

Sam spluttered in outrage, and Gabriel leant down to snag the mouthpiece from him. "Look buddy, Bobby 'aint here. You got something to say, say it or we're hanging up."

The static seemed to bristle. " _Wonderful, two idiots to deal with. Fine, fuck it, it's not like I'm in danger of bloody DYING or anything. Tell him there's trouble brewing out here and I could really use a hand. Something's happening, something big."_

Gabriel felt his stomach drop. "You mean the daemor?"

The transceiver growled. " _Daemor, zombies, whatever the fuck you call them. They're here, and they're up to something. So you get Bobby to send some help, preferably with guns. Big ones."_

The voice was getting faint, the signal fading. Sam was looking at him with wide eyes, and Gabriel cleared his throat nervously.

"Alright. I'll tell Bobby. But who are you?"

For a moment, they thought they had lost him. Gabriel sighed.

"Shit I hope-"

" _Crowley,_ " the voice snapped at him.  _"You tell him Crowley called and he better get his ass out here._ _ **Fast.**_ _"_


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: graphic gore, blood, violence, violence against a minor (though undead), character death? (sort of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kind words and reviews guys! I read them all and they really make my day :) Now that things in my life are more stable, I'll try to update more often. Also be warned, more gore this chapter! Woohoo.

* * *

 

It had rained the night before and the forest floor was slick, rotting leaves and dead grass making the going treacherous. But Crowley doggedly pushed on, boots slipping in the mulch as he shoved his way through the forest. The bag over his shoulder was worryingly light, he had barely had enough time to grab a few things from his run down shack before evacuating.

He stumbled, nearly losing his footing on a tree root. A twinge of pain shot up his ankle, and the demon paused, cursing angrily. His fingers scrabbled against the cuff of his mud caked jeans, pulling his soaked socks away from his skin to check the ankle beneath. No blood.

Good.

His chest felt too tight, his ribs constricting his suddenly too large lungs. Damn he was out of shape. You'd think a demon that spent his life scurrying around in the dirt would be used to this sort of thing.

He could still see the faint outline of the sun beyond the tree canopy which was reassuring, but judging by the nip in the air, evening wasn't far off. Fuck.

He tried to think of his options. There was a farmhouse a few miles up the trail, but the last time he had checked, a family of gremlins had taken up residence. He could probably take them on if he had to, but gremlins weren't exactly a deterrent to the things he was currently running from. The deep woods were out of the question, too many big things with teeth. He could make for the road and follow it, but that was too open. He'd be easily tracked. Unless he somehow grew gills in the next five minutes and hid in the lake with the fish, he was pretty much screwed.

Stubbornly, Crowley ran on.

"How the mighty have fallen," he muttered to himself, slapping a mosquito as it went for his neck. "The hunter becomes the hunted or something equally as moronic."

He missed it when he had been a  _part_ of the forces of evil, not running from them.

It hadn't just been the humans who had suffered when the world went to shit. After the freaks started popping up like decaying daisies, every monster made a run for safety. For the demons on Earth living in their fleshy human bodies, there was only one place to go. They swarmed back to Hell in droves, leaving their confused hosts as cannon fodder to feed the advancing army.

There had been murmurs for years that something was brewing in the dark trenches of Hell's underbelly, but the demons of the world were too bloody self absorbed to pay it much heed. But not Crowley. The last place he wanted to go was that putrid pit, cramming himself in with the common riff-raff. And boy, hadn't that paid off?

He didn't know how many demons returned to Hell for sanctuary, but he knew they didn't find it. Just more death and pain, that's what they got. For years the whispered stories about Lucifer and his stupid plans had been passed around. But no-one had actually  _seen_ the arrogant twat, so what was there to worry about in stories? They were just that, tales told to the new baby demons to keep them in check, the big bad Devil wasn't really  _real._ Nothing could be worse than Hell, the horrific fire bitch who birthed them all. So why worry?

Crowley snickered bitterly to himself , ducking beneath a fallen tree.

Well he got the last laugh in the end.  _Crowley_  was the one who survived, who escaped the massacre at Hell's gates.  _He_  was the one who bloody well made a living in a broken world, as shit as it was. He was a survivor, always was and always would be.

Fat lot of good that did him him now. All hail Crowley, king of the dead.

A guttural yowl echoed from the direction he had come. Crowley's heart lurched, and he tried to pick up his pace, legs and thighs straining. The vegetation was getting denser, a branch caught him in the face and the demon tasted the metallic tang of blood.

He could hear things moving behind him now. Things crashing through the bushes and trees, things with wide mouths and rotten teeth, all hungry for just a little taste of demon.

Crowley nearly went head over heels as he stumbled out of the treeline into a field. He had cleared the forest, in front of him stretched a good few acres of overgrown farmland. The tall grasses weren't tall enough to hide in, but something else caught his eye.

An ancient old tree, leafless and gnarled, stood proudly in the center of the field. Several branches were low enough to grab, if he could just get to it before-

Crowley was already out in the field, the grasses slapping against his waist as he heard the explosion of noise behind him bursting from the trees. Damn they were fast. The sun hung low on the horizon, its rays low and weak enough that his pursuers didn't fear it, and they tore into the field on the demon's heels, jaws snapping.

"Shit shit shit shit shit shit-"

He could make it, only a few more meters and he could grab the branch, just a little…more…

Something grabbed his ankle. Crowley went down  _hard,_ hands flung in front of him in an attempt to save his face from a smackdown.

Like most of Crowley's plans, it didn't work.

He greeted the ground face first, splitting his lip and cracking his nose. Through the haze of pain, Crowley could only lie there in stunned disbelief. Son a bitch he had been  _so close_ -

Something grabbed him by the neck, yanking him up and onto his knees. Crowley blinked the dirt out of his eyes, wincing as he tongued the bloody slit on his lip.

"Guess I'm It now huh? Alright, I'll count to a hundred and you do the running."

What had been a woman, glared down at him disgustedly. The right side of her face was singed, the flesh sloughing off her cheek in blacked chunks. The fingers digging into the back of Crowley's neck felt too sharp, and he suppressed a shudder as he felt something squirm against his skin.

" _You test my patience, worm."_

Well that was rich coming from a creature infested with maggots. Crowley found himself wistfully wishing he still had his powers. But after being cut off from hell for so long…he was more human than demon, barely able to spark a disgruntled wisp of flame. It was a bloody miracle he could even still remember any Samarian; a language only spoken by the oldest of demons.

"Worm? I'm wounded. After all we've been through!" Crowley tried to smile, but his heart was in his mouth, his thighs trembling and stomach threatening to unleash something equally as horrible as the sight in front of him. His voice sounded unlike him, his tongue tripping over the harsh vowels normally only heard in the bowels of hell.

The creature sneered at him. What teeth she had left were sharp, and queasily Crowley noticed bits of flesh caught between them.

" _You would do well to beg. Just as your mate did."_

The fingers at his neck tightened. There was no doubt she could feel the panicked fluttering of his pulse.

"First of all, we weren't mates. More like mortal enemies, and secondly…I have a feeling begging isn't going to help me much."

He stared up into what had been Meg's face. She hadn't been so bad really, a bit of a bitch, but who wasn't these bloody days? Like Crowley, she was one of the few demons who hadn't returned to Hell, preferring to wait it out on Earth. They had tolerated each other, setting up a tense alliance to deal with the smaller critters. Maybe once or twice they had shagged, but that was only because Crowley had gotten so bloody bored being on his own, and he had owed her after that one harpy incident.

When she had called on the radio a few days ago, he had known things were bad. Meg only talked to him when she absolutely had to, and usually with a heavy dose of disgust. Damn it, he had  _told_ her to get the hell out of there, but the damn bitch always had to be right didn't she? She was going to check it out, she said, quick recon to see what was up and then back, she said. Don't fuck with my shit, she said.

She should have listened to him.

They had done a number on her, he was amazed he had even recognized her at all. Her hair was matted, clumps of it missing and showing scabby scalp beneath. Her throat was surprisingly intact, but she was ripped open chest to groin, her internal organs all gone.

_They chewed her up to get to that gooey demon center._

Others were prowling around them, Crowley caught glimpses of their dead glazed eyes through the grass. It was getting dark now, the air cool against his sweaty skin.

The smell was overpowering, even through his now broken nose. Crowley's eyes watered, and he tried to breathe as shallowly as he could.

Meg shook him again. " _Your… **gift,** was not appreciated."_

Crowley had always had a penchant for the dramatic. He had heard the explosion even from his position running away, those grenades Singer had given him seemed to have done the trick. He had hoped that stuffing the dead deer with them would be enough, but it looked like it hadn't been as devastating as he had hoped.

"What can I say?" Crowley did manage a smile that time, trying not to flail and scream as a piece of the creature's blackened cheek landed on his arm. "I'm a generous sort of man."

" _Let me have first taste!_ " A scrawny male emerged from the tall grass. One of his eyes was missing, the flesh of his arm stripped away to bare bone that he jabbed in Crowley's direction. " _My belly aches. You had the last, sister. You promis-"_

Zombie-Meg whirled on him, letting go of Crowley. " _And you promised to obey!"_

Her blackened teeth clacked as she lunged at the other, forcing him to retreat with a whine. Crowley got his feet under him, veins thrumming with adrenaline. If they got distracted maybe he could slip awa-

A girl, no older than ten, was suddenly beside him, sightless eyes rolling in her decaying sockets. Her fingers were just bony nubs, yellow tendrils of fat clinging to her palms. She grabbed Crowley by the shirt, leaving greasy smears. " _You have your body now, sister. So many of our siblings long for their freedom. Let me ease their transition."_

Crowley yelped, getting his arm up as the girl tried to lunge in for his neck. She twisted against him, her dead hands scrabbling at his arm and face.

_" **No!** "_

Meg pounced on the child, burying her teeth in the girl's shoulder. Crowley fell back, his own shoulder throbbing as he watched Meg tear the girl apart. " _He is not ours to eat! We must save him for **her.** "_

Crowley clapped a hand to his mouth, trying to swallow the hot bile in his throat as Meg tore an arm off the squealing girl, tossing it to a slavering male. Suddenly dozens of creatures were crawling forward, fighting and snarling over the rotten morsels of one of their own.

Crowley tried to get up, to run, but found he could only sit there in mute horror, speckles of black blood splashing against his legs as the child disappeared beneath the mass of writhing bodies. Meg turned away from the feast, eyes shining in the dim light. She grabbed Crowley again, dragging him in close to her dead and ruined face.

" _How good of you to join us for dinner, cousin."_

* * *

 

Bobby sighed heavily, sliding his hat off to rub his temples. "Look, I owe him. He saved my ass a few times, I saved his. He gives me supplies, I give him some. It's…kinda our thing."

The transmitter sat on the kitchen table, Dean glaring at it as though it offended him. Sam stood by the counter, unsure and worried, biting his lip. Castiel shot a look at Gabriel, but for once his brother wasn't flippant. Gabriel stood ramrod straight, his eyes fierce.

"He's not human, is he?"

Bobby sighed even harder at that, sitting down at the table heavily. "What do you want me to say? No. He 'ain't."

Clarity dawned on Castiel. "You knew Enochian. This…Crowley, taught you that."

Bobby nodded. "Yeah. That and a whole bunch o' shit. Wards, sigils, spells. This town is in one piece thanks to him. If he's in trouble, I gotta help 'im."

"And when were you going to tell us, Bobby?" Dean demanded, looking away from the transmitter. "You didn't think it was important we know?"

Bobby snorted, jamming his hat back on his head. "Fraternizin' with the enemy don't go over well in this town. You saw that damn fence on the way in! Folks here kill any supernatural on sight, and they do worse to those who-"

Bobby stopped himself, taking a deep breath. "You two know best of all. What about that girl you hooked up with Sam? Remember what they did to her?"

Sam shoved away from the counter, expression dark. "We don't talk about Madison."

Bobby thumped a fist onto the table. "Exactly. We don't talk about  _nothin'_ in this damn town. So I talk to a demon once in a while, I kept this town  _safe,_ I-"

" _A demon!?_ " Dean looked furious. "He's a fucking  _demon?_ "

Sam looked just as shocked. "Dammit Bobby you know what those fuckers can do, your wife…"

"And we don't talk about  _that_ either," Bobby snapped back. "This 'aint the same thing. Things are bad out there. Sometimes you gotta pick the lesser o' the two evils."

Castiel touched Gabriel's arm. "Would a demon pose a threat?" he asked quietly, as the others bickered. "I thought all had returned to hell."

Gabriel nodded. "Most of them did, or so I thought. If he  _is_  a demon, he'd be hardly stronger than a human at this point. Cut off from hell that long, demons don't do well."

"Like us," Castiel said grimly. Gabriel only nodded.

Castiel watched as the humans argued, their arm movements getting more and more violent.

"Gabriel…as loathe as I am to suggest it, a demon may actually help us."

Gabriel chuckled lowly, but there was no humor in his tone. "You know, I was actually thinking the same. As much as I hate the little fuckers, demons can be smart. If you're taking on a bunch of nasties, it's nice to have a nasty on your side."

Bobby slammed his hand flat on the table, startling everyone. "That is ENOUGH!"

Both the Winchesters fell silent, watching their father figure with wide eyes. Bobby was breathing hard, anger etched into the lines of his face. "You don't think I've had this conversation with myself enough times? Yes it's fuckin' crazy. Yes I'm probably insane. But matter of the fact is, we owe a lot to this damn demon, and Bobby Singer pays his debts. You don't wanna help me? Fine. I don't fuckin' care. But God help me-"

"God can't help you," Gabriel interrupted. "But we can, and will. Just tell us what you need us to do."

Cut off mid-rant, Bobby just stared at him, flustered. "Wh-hat?"

"You're right," Castiel chimed in. "A demon though he may be, this Crowley is also valuable. He possibly has knowledge that even we angels do not have. We need him."

"No we fucking  _don't,_ " Dean protested. "We-"

"Will find him," Castiel said firmly."We will find him, and return with him here."

All anger left Bobby, the man slumping back down into his seat. He looked ten years older, tired and beaten. "Thank you. As fucked up as it is…he's a friend. I wanna see him safe."

Even Dean couldn't fight that.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings: Kind of past Crowley/Meg, some Gabriel/Sam, past Sam/Jess
> 
> Warnings: graphic gore, blood, violence, forced gross kissing and BLOOD, BLOOD EVERYWHERE WEEEEE 
> 
> A/N: Little bit of a longer chapter as a thanks for your patience! And gore. And snuggles. And stuff. You guys reading this are saints and all kinds of awesome. (I'm sorry I suck).

* * *

 

"Gabriel, do you…do you know how to use any of these?" Castiel picked a pistol from the pile, holding it at arm's length as if it would bite him.

Gabriel leaned over to take it from him. "You mean the boom boom stick?"

Castiel stared at him like he was crazy.

"It's a gun bro, not a bomb." Gabriel clicked open the barrel to show him. "See? Easy peasy. I'd have thought all those books you read would have made you an expert."

Castiel sighed, picking up a bundle of tent pegs. "I didn't study the details as much as…general summaries. Are these stakes for killing vampires?"

Gabriel took that from him too. "Boy are you in for a treat. Nothing like a camping trip to prove you're a man."

The angels had left the planning of their impromptu trip to the humans. Map reading wasn't Gabriel's forte, he just hoped the Winchesters knew what they were doing. Hiking for a few days out in the wild looking for a demon wasn't his idea of a good time, but fun was hard to come by these days apparently.

At a loss, Castiel gave up, electing to instead watch Gabriel as he organized various items and packed them carefully into a backpack.

"So," Gabriel grabbed a ziplock bag full of crushed granola bars. Breakfast he assumed. "How goes your bonding attempts with Dean-o?"

Castiel frowned, fiddling with the edge of a folded shirt. "Slowly. He is…confusing at times."

"Aren't they all." Next went a raincoat. It was crusty, parts of it stained red. Gabriel didn't look too closely at it. "You just keep trying, kiddo. He'll be writing you love songs and asking you to prom in no time."

"Gabriel…I'm scared."

He paused at that, turned to his brother. "Why?"

Castiel didn't meet his eyes. "I feel like…something else is coming. Something…bad."

"Well gee, that's oddly specific!"

His flippant humor went unnoticed. Gabriel sighed, reaching out to grab Castiel's hand. "Hey, look at me."

The angel did, eyes all puppy-like and soulful. Gabriel gave his fingers a squeeze. "It'll be okay. No matter what happens. After all, you got me."

Castiel didn't smile. "And what if that isn't enough? Gabriel…what, what if  _we're_ not enough."

"I think you've been spending too much time with Downer Dean."

"That's not an answer."

Gabriel sighed. "I don't know, Castiel. What I  _do_  know is I followed a snot-nosed little brother out of heaven, and do you wanna know why?"

As expected, Castiel rolled his eyes. "Because you were even more snot-nosed?"

Gabriel smiled, giving him a lighthearted shove. "No you brat, because I believed in you. I had  _faith,_ for once in my life. Now…now you just have to believe in  _me._ I'll keep you in one piece little brother. Have faith."

Castiel nodded. "Alright. Do you really think this demon will be able to help us?"

"Honestly?" Gabriel stuffed pair of socks alongside the raincoat. "No. But it certainly wouldn't hurt to get on Bobby's good side. I don't really want to be strung up on that fence."

"Bobby wouldn't do that," Castiel handed him a sheathed knife. "He's a good man."

"It's not Bobby I'm worried about. It's the townspeople."

Castiel frowned. "They seem kind enough."

"Scared more like. Did you see Lucky when we met Rufus out there? He knows what's up. These people are hanging on by a thread, and if we blow cover, they're more likely to lynch us than help us."

Finishing his own backpack, Gabriel started on Castiel's.

"It seems ironic," he muttered. "The same people we came to save are just as likely to kill us as the bad guys."

Castiel grabbed a pair of old jeans. "And if we were to die? Where would we go? Michael was quite adamant that we would never be welcomed home."

Gabriel ignored the sudden lurch in his stomach. "Well I dunno 'bout you, but I'm gonna to haunt the  _shit_  out of the Winchesters."

Castiel laughed at that.

 

* * *

 

"Gabriel, get your foot out of my face."

Rain pattered against the tent, the thin walls shuddering beneath each drop. Gabriel sighed, deliberately stretching his leg out further, poking Sam in the cheek with his toe.

"My foot isn't in your face. Your face is on my foot."

The tent was…crowded. Designed for only three at a stretch, somehow they had all managed to fit inside. With the sleeping bags, gear, discarded boots and a German Shepherd with no sense of personal space, it was proving to be an interesting experience.

They had been hiking all day, and half the day before that. Bobby had driven them some of the way, all of them crammed together in the bed of his truck. Bobby was apologetic but they understood, a missing car would be suspicious, and a missing  _Bobby_ even more so. The Impala was still out of commission, so travelling by foot it was. If Crowley was to be retrieved, it had to be done without the knowledge of the other townspeople. Luckily, according to the old hunter, the shack the demon called home wasn't too far, only a good day or two.

The rain came down harder, the sound almost rivaling the thuds of Lucky's tail. The smell of wet dog was powerful, but Castiel found he didn't mind the musky scent. The shepherd was pressed up against the angel's side, his damp fur starting to sink into the moth bitten material of Castiel's sleeping bag. Dean brooded by the tent entrance, peeling the zipper back now and then to glower unhappily outside.

"We should be moving," he muttered. "The sooner we find Bobby's demon, the quicker I get back to Ellen's and a stiff drink."

Lucky rose from Castiel's side, hesitantly making his way towards Dean. Castiel was surprised to see Dean smile, and even give the dog a brief pat on the head.

"Not yet, boy. But remind me to make you lead, maybe your stench will scare away the monsters huh?"

Lucky sneezed at that, turning and happily bouncing towards Sam. His path took him over Gabriel, and the archangel groaned as dog paws found his sensitive places. Sam laughed, wrapping his arms around Lucky as the dog pushed into his space.

"Our secret weapon against the armies of darkness, Eau de dog."

Gabriel sat up, rubbing his belly with a grimace. "We need to fatten him up, those skinny paws  _hurt._ "

Lucky just grinned at them all, tongue lolling.

Dean sighed, stretching out his legs with a wince. "I can't believe we're doing Bobby's dirty work. Next time he has to go get his own demon. We're not a postal service."

Sam snorted at that. "Isn't that kind of what we always do? And anyways, Bobby's right. The more brains we have on this, the more likely we might win this."

"Win  _what_ exactly?" Dean slapped the side of the tent. "'Cause as far as I'm concerned this isn't exactly a winnable battle we're dealing with. This is just…slow annihilation."

Castiel could sense the tension rising. A fight would not be far off if he had grown to read Dean properly. He cleared his throat.

"Sam, have you ever heard of the battle of Veh?"

Gabriel rolled over, hiding his face in his sleeping bag. "Oh man, do you have to bring  _that_ one up?"

Castiel's question had the desired response. Sam shuffled closer, eyes shining with curiosity. Even Dean's tense posture had dropped, though he turned away as if uninterested.

"No, what was that?" Sam shot a look at the cringing Gabriel. "Was it bad?"

Castiel shook his head. "Not for us. It was one of many smaller skirmishes Heaven dealt with, but an entertaining story none the less. A demon led a host of harpies against Heaven, hoping to force his way inside."

Sam's eyes were huge."Harpies? I've never seen one."

"You don't want to." Gabriel sat up, his hair wild. "They're angry and hairy and very,  _very_  noisy. Like seagulls on steroids. All that damn ca-cawing drove me  _insane._ "

Castiel chuckled. "Only our sister Raphael seemed immune. She was very brave, making a stand above the host in her armor, shouting down holy prayers-"

"And a harpy swooped in and  _shat on her!_ " Gabriel hooted. "It was one of the best moments of my life. Hands down."

"Gabriel, if I remember correctly, your hysterical laughter only infuriated the harpies further and they also gave you the same tre-"

"Uhhh they don't need to hear about  _that._ " Gabriel waved his hands around nervously. "Point is, they all failed. We kicked their asses, the end."

Sam frowned, Lucky twisting in his arms to flop down. "Did you have that a lot? Demons and things attacking Heaven? Seems…kind of stupid of them."

Gabriel reached over to rub Lucky's belly. "Only all the time. Smart monsters they 'aint. The little suckers were always looking for ways in. Some of them pretty hilarious! One time, this demon actually dressed up in a bathrobe, glued feathers to her back and came up strumming a harp trying to pass herself off as one of us."

Sam laughed. "Now you're just pulling my leg. That's ridiculous."

Gabriel grinned in response. "What's ridiculous was the way she ran when we set the griffons on her. There were fake feathers _everywhere._ I thought I was gonna die laughing."

Castiel's plan worked. Huddled together in their sad little tent, they swapped stories of happier and simpler times. For a moment, they could pretend the world was a safe place.

 

* * *

 

He knew she wasn't real.

Sam had been having dreams all his life, happy dreams, sad dreams, angry dreams. Weirdly enough he didn't have nightmares, he guessed that since his actual life was enough of one, that at least in sleep he got a break. But he did dream of death. People he had known, faces he had seen.

Tonight, he dreamt of Jess.

She had been his very first girlfriend. They had been kids together, sneaking kisses in the tall grass behind the old school house. She was the first girl to look at Sam and not be afraid. She didn't care who his father was, or what kind of a reputation his brother had. She liked Sam, for Sam. He could still remember the taste of her lips, the feel of her skin under his fingers the night they snuck into one of the barns. He could remember the sound of her voice when she whispered she loved him, and the feeling in his gut when he whispered it back.

She died when Sam was seventeen, trapped in that same barn during an attack on the town. A group of bandits had staged a coup, setting fires in an attempt to intimidate the townspeople into submission. Jess burned alive, and Sam wasn't there. John had taken both boys on one of his "hunting" trips… and Sam couldn't save her.

He had always resented John for that. That maybe if he had been there…

But in his dreams, Jess was alive. She would forever be young and beautiful, and Sam would run with her, hand in hers as they ran the fields they used to. He would trace her face with his fingers, kiss her like they were kids again, laugh with her in their secret place.

He knew she wasn't real. But for a while every night, he could pretend.

Jess's face dissolved as Sam struggled back into consciousness. Caught between sleep and wakefulness, Sam still noticed that the rain that had kept him up most of the night had stopped. Now he could only hear the breathing of his tent companions, coupled with Lucky's whistling snorts.

He had rolled over in his sleep, and judging by the warmth pressed against his front, had latched onto Dean again after kicking off his sleeping bag. It was a left over behavior from childhood, at least that's how Sam rationalized it. Crowded living spaces and a life of monster hunting had led to it, and a snuggle here or there with his big brother didn't hurt anybody. After the age of twenty maybe it got weird, but Sam had a sneaking suspicion that Dean didn't really mind. All they had was each other these days, and a quiet cuddle between brothers now and then wasn't a big dea-

"I know you're awake, you giant octopus. I'd be outraged if you weren't such a good snuggler."

Sam's eyes snapped open. The hair he had been pressing his nose into was too long to be Dean's. The body he was currently squashing against his own was too small, fitting too well against the angles and curves of his body. The voice had rumbled against his throat, lips far too close and hot against his skin.

Sam could only lie there in paralyzed shame as he realized what he had done. Gabriel didn't seem as upset, merely sighing and wriggling slightly. The archangel's legs were tangled with Sam's, his face tucked into the crook of Sam's neck like he belonged there.

"Luckily for you, you picked Heaven's champion cuddler." Gabriel rubbed his cheek against Sam's collar bone. "We angels are trained in the art of cuddles from a young age."

Sam could see Castiel beside them, the angel on his back and an arm flung over his face. His other arm curled towards Gabriel, fingers tightly clenched as if grabbing something at his brother's back. Dean was by the tent entrance still, lying in an uncomfortable looking ball. Lucky was draped over him like a living blanket.

Sam swallowed, heart pounding. "W..what are the odds that you'll let me live this down?"

His voice was a panicked whisper. Gabriel's hair was warm, tickling Sam's nose as the angel tried to pull away and look up at him. The arm thrown over Sam's side gave him a reassuring squeeze, and Sam relaxed his grip enough for Gabriel to wriggle upwards.

"Honestly? None I'd say." In the dim light, Gabriel's gold eyes were almost glowing. "I shall harbor this potential blackmail material forever."

Sam could feel his face heat up. He tried to pull away, an apology and explanation trying to force it's way out of him all at once. Gabriel didn't let him go, grabbing Sam and hauling him back to where he had been.

"Hey, did I say  _stop?_ I was enjoying our moment."

Sam blinked as he was manhandled back into position. "Wh…human's don't snuggle."

Gabriel snorted, tucking his face back under Sam's chin. "Whatever you say, Cuddlenova."

Sam tried again, giving the angel a little shake. " _Men_ don't snuggle."

"This… _man,_  does," Gabriel shot back, giving Sam's shin a gentle kick. "Now shut up and let me enjoy the cuddle-glow."

So Sam did.

 

* * *

 

Bobby's directions were surprisingly accurate. They found every landmark, and despite some bad weather, the going through the forest was easy. No monsters, no bandits, nothing.

The downtrodden shack they eventually found though, was half collapsed and empty.

Dean kicked at a blackened board. "Looks like a fire gutted the place."

Sam peered inside the remains. There wasn't much left, just wet ashes and splintered wood. "No corpse though. No bones. He could still be out there."

"Great," Dean glanced up at the sky. "No demon and we only have a few more hours daylight. I say mission failed, everyone back to base camp."

Lucky was circling the shack, nose to the ground. Castiel watched the dog pace, feeling the same sense of unease. The trees around them pressed in, listening and watchful. Everything about the place felt wrong, too close and quiet.

Castiel excused himself from the group, citing the incessant pull of his newly acquired bladder. He dropped his backpack at Gabriel's feet, heeding Dean's loud warnings to stay close, but did step out of sight, into the trees. Inside the dense vegetation, it felt even more claustrophobic. Castiel found himself holding his breath and swiveling his head to watch the trees around him as he relieved himself. It was a strangely vulnerable moment, and after he finished and zipped up his jeans, he wondered if most humans felt that way when out of the comforts of home.

A twig snapped.

Castiel froze, skin prickling. The silence crowded him, the trees seemingly leaning in to stare at him accusingly. His back flexed, his phantom wings screaming to spread and flee. No monsters attacked him however, the forest as still as before.

_An animal,_  he reasoned with himself.  _Squirrel perhaps._

But Castiel couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was out there. And if he could sense it, it could sense him.

Castiel hurried back to the group, catching the end of a conversation.

"-a bad idea!" Dean was arguing, ever the voice of reason. "Can you feel that? Bad vibes, Sam. This place is  _steeped_  in bad vibes and running off into the forest isn't going to help."

Lucky was pawing at the ground, whining. Gabriel motioned to the dog, seemingly backing up whatever Sam had said.

"Look, he has the scent. I say we follow it, see what we can find. We came all this way, we might as well."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine. But if we don't find anything, or even if we  _do_ …if it's bad, we haul ass. I'm not dying for a demon."

Castiel hesitated, suddenly feeling foolish. What was he so afraid of? Mortality was affecting him in more ways than he had thought if he was jumping at shadows and scary looking trees. Dean had gotten a shotgun out of one of the bags, and loaded it, glancing towards Castiel as Sam and Gabriel argued over who got the other.

"You okay?"

He wasn't sure he should answer that. Instead, Castiel just nodded, stooping to grab his backpack. His hands felt clumsy as he hiked it up onto his shoulders. Dean shrugged.

"Alrighty then."

 

* * *

 

Crowley had definitely had better days.

The same tree he had thought was his salvation was now his jailor, and Crowley glared at it resentfully. Well, as much as he could manage.

The first day they hadn't touched him, too busy fighting among themselves. He had tried to sneak away a few times but it was futile, and he had suffered a few bites before Meg wrenched him away. He wasn't sure if it was for his safety or not, but today the bastards had strung him up like a hog on a meat hook, dangling upside down on the tree's dead branches. He wasn't even all that mad about it, it was  _impressive_ that the fuckers could still tie a decent knot with their decaying fingers. They had tied his ankles together and hung him up by that, his arms were left to dangle with the rest of him. Apparently now they were just waiting. For what, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Crowley knew he probably looked like shit. He sure smelled it, though he wasn't sure if that was him, or the creatures milling around him. Raising his arm, he cautiously felt his cheek. His face felt hot and swollen, too puffy and tight. The blood vessels in his left eye had popped, and his vision was beginning to blur in the right. His nose was still broken and throbbing, and his arms were covered in hickey-like teeth mark bruises. He felt like his head could pop off with just a poke, and amused himself for a while imagining his suddenly headless body whizzing around like a deflating balloon.

But judging by the amount of lip licking going on, he was running out of time. Grunting, he flopped around uselessly, using his arms to get a good swing going.

"So, you know, if I'm going to meet this amazing  _Her_  that you all keep yammering about, maybe I should clean myself up yeah? Or you know, you could maybe  _cut me down?_ "

Zombie-Meg didn't even look at him. The bitch was seated nearby, warning away some of the bolder creatures that wanted a taste of demon. A few times Crowley could have sworn she had been chanting something, a ritual by the sound of it, but nothing ever seemed to happen.

" _Stop your bleating little lamb,"_ she tittered in response, baring her teeth as one drew close. " _The wolves are hungry."_

Crowley executed a twirl and the tree groaned. "You know, we shouldn't bicker. We're all from the same family really aren't we? Daddy wouldn't want us to fight."

That got a reaction. Meg rose, the fleshy flaps of her abdomen swinging as she turned her dead gaze on Crowley. " _You are_ _ **nothing**_ _. We are everything."_

Crowley snorted. "Sure, cupcake. Is that what Daddy told you? That you're a special snowflake?"

His endless squirming was working. He had been hung for most of the day, the weight of him and his movements were wearing the rope down. They had probably scrounged it from a nearby farm so it was old to begin with, if he could just-

" _What a brave little lamb."_ Meg drifted closer, and the ranks of her brethren closed in as well. " _It must sting, cousin. To have been held in such high regard, and then discarded."_

Cowley didn't like the look in her filmy eyes. "Eh, you know. Win some, lose some."

" _You were faulty, imperfect."_ Meg clicked her tongue as if cooing to an infant. Something white and wriggling fell from the side of her mouth. " _A mistake, which will be rectified. You will be replaced, and we will achieve what you never could."_

Crowley feigned awe."I'll tell you what, if you can lick your elbow I'll be  _really_ impressed. Though it's cheating if it's not attached."

Playtime was over. Meg lunged, grabbing him by the back of his neck. Crowley struggled as she pulled him close, trying to turn his face away from hers. His arms flailed, unwilling to touch any part of her. Though Meg herself was dead, her body still crawled with life. He tried to ignore the writhing of her skin just below her eyes.

" _Perhaps I was wrong,_ " she whispered, cocking her head. " _Perhaps I do not need to keep you in one piece for my sister. I need only keep you_ _ **alive**_ _… for the time being."_

Crowley's stomach dropped to his throat. "Well let's not go  _too_ crazy here. There are bits of me I happen to like."

Meg smiled, an ominous sign. " _Let's play a game, cousin. I will spare you pain, but only if you do as I say."_

"Like a sick game of Simon says? Wonderful." Crowley's gaze slid to the side, where the other creatures were coming closer, licking their chops. "Alright, never let it be said Crowley was a party pooper. Fire away."

She slid into Crowley's space, the rank smell of decay hitting the back of his throat. " _Such a funny thing. Would you still joke if you knew I wonder?"_

Crowley gagged, his eyes watering as she swayed even closer. " _Your poor little Meg. Such a terrible end she had. Do you think she thought of you? Perhaps a final thought for her gallant knight in black armor?"_

Crowley laughed in her face, somehow managing not to vomit at the stench. "If she did, it was probably cursing my little black greasy heart. Just as I'm cursing yours."

" _How romantic._ " She touched him then, running one slick and peeling finger down his cheek. " _Did she scream when you fucked her? Because she certainly screamed when_ _ **I**_ _entered her."_

Bile burned his throat. Crowley blinked, trying to force it back down…up, anywhere but out. "Fuck you."

Meg yanked his face closer to hers. Crowley could see the black clogged veins under her sallow skin, the tinge of decay in her cheeks. Could hear the skittering of insects fighting over the dank places the monsters had ripped out of her.

She grinned. " _Simon says you owe me a kiss, little lamb."_

This time Crowley did touch her. He slammed his hands against her shoulders, ripped out chunks of her lank greasy hair. Foul juices flowed over his hands, fingers sinking into her sagging skin as he twisted and scrabbled.

She laughed at his attempts at escape, merely hauling him up like a pup and latching her rotting mouth onto his.

Crowley had never felt such panic. He screamed, trying desperately to push her away but she bit him then, teeth clamping down on his lips. All he could taste, all he could feel, was death and blood. Unlike her it was hot, a river of molten fire he could feel dripping down his face as she gnashed and growled in a parody of a lover's kiss.

When she pulled away, her mouth and chin were smudged with crimson. The other creatures were going wild, screeching and darting forward to lick and suck at the red grass below Crowley.

And for a moment, Crowley felt whole. All he could feel was red. Red, red, red. Red like his soul, his stinging eyes, the fires of hell where he had been born.

" _Fuck, YOU!_ " His true voice rang out, sudden and furious. He spat a spray of blood, his hands hooked into claws as he swung for her. "I will fucking  _destroy you!"_

They all found that funny, and like that, the moment was over. Crowley wasn't a demon, not properly anymore. He wasn't all powerful. The creatures heaved their raspy laughs, Meg most of all.

" _I was wrong little lamb, there's a lion in you after all!"_  Her black tongue slid from her swollen lips, tasting him again. " _There's fire in you yet."_

Crowley sagged, going limp. His mouth was aflame, blood oozing down his face, stinging his eyes. It dripped down his forehead, matted in his hair and then fell to the ground in a steady dribble. "He'll fucking burn you all, just you wait. He'll fucking burn you and you'll _scream._ "

" _Oh my poor little lion,"_ Meg went to touch him and he weakly slapped her hand away. " _Such a death would be a blessing compared to what is in store for you."_

She was going to take more, Crowley dully realized. She was going to nibble his face off and there was nothing he could do. He spat at her again, a glob of blood splattering across her cheek.

"I hope you fucking  _choke_."

Meg leaned in close.


End file.
